This Present Darkness
by Elizabeth7
Summary: [COMPLETE & NOW WITH 5 NEW ADDENDUMS] HrSS. When Hermione suffers a personal tradegy, only Snape can help her through it. Along the way they discover each other's secrets and face a common foe. There is a sequel - 'For Love is as Strong as Death'
1. Prologue

Quick note:  Many of the canon characters in this story that only play minor roles are based on Clio's interpretation of them in her story, Eight Ways From Sunday which can be found in the Schnoogle section of FAP at **www.fictionalley.org**.  As most of her characters only appear as cameos here (apart from Hermione who is totally different in this story), I don't feel too bad about borrowing them.  However, I wanted to acknowledge her influence on my work.  (As one of the betas for Eight Ways From Sunday, I guess it was inevitable!)  Anyway, please go and take a look at her wonderful story as it's very well written, very hip and packed with canon character romances. 

This Present Darkness

_"For we fight not against flesh and blood but against Powers and Principalities – the rulers of this present darkness."_

Ephesians 6:11-13

Prologue 

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

1 Corinthians 13:12

****

It was Hermione's final term at Hogwarts and she was tired and burnt out.  There was only a few weeks left to go before final exams and she wondered if she'd make it without collapsing in a fit of exhaustion.

She sighed as she added her carefully ground Grindylowe bones to the potion.  The potion turned a clear green much to her relief.  She needed to wait 5 minutes before adding the dragon scales.

Her eyes roamed around the room and came to rest on Snape, her disliked and feared Potions Master.  He was preparing some ingredients for a complicated looking potion brewing on his lab bench.  He was absorbed and frowing darkly, not an unusual expression.  His dark, greasy looking hair fell in clumps around his lean, boney face.  His eyebrows were heavy and as pitch black as his hair.  A line of concentration was cut deeply between them.  His nose was large and hawkish, and his pale lips thin.  His skin had a sallow tinge but his hands were as blue white as skim milk and beautiful; strong, slender and long-fingered.

Hermione turned back to her potion, checked her timer, added dragon scales and reset the timer once more.  It was now another 5 minutes until she added the Griffin feathers.

Her eyes went back to her Potions Master for lack of any other distraction.  His mouth was pursed slightly in concentration and his black eyes were intense as he added an ingredient and adjusted the tempreture.  He went back to finely chopping something.  Whatever he was brewing, it must be important for him to be neglecting the class.  Usually his prowled around them, sneering at their efforts and deliberately un-nerving them.

She noticed a sulpherous steam coming from the cauldron.  It must be a very potent potion.  She frowned.  She hoped he often didn't brew such nasty substances.  Being around fumes like that constantly had to be bad for your health.

She checked her potion and carefully snipped in some of the feathers into it.  It turned a golden brown – perfect!  She set the timer again and glanced around the room.  Other students were frantically chopping and grinding but she'd prepared her ingredients before beginning so her timing could be exact for adding each ingredient.  Her spider venom had been exactly measured and needed to be added in a few minutes.

Once more she examined Snape, speculating on what on earth drove the man.  He was such a nasty, evil git.  Once, he'd been a Death Eater – hated and feared by the wizarding community.  Now, he was teaching at Hogwarts!  It was a bit absurd.  Most of the Death Eaters ended up in Azkaban.  What was it that had saved him from the Dementor's Kiss?  It hadn't been his ability to spy, Dumbledore had only asked that of him at the end of her fourth year.  Why did Dumbledore have such faith in him?  He didn't even look trustworthy.  He looked dangerous, cunning, secretive and vicious.

She checked on her potion again and added the venom drop by drop.  Slowly is changed colour to a navy blue.  She stirred it with some holly bark quickly, then poured it into a goblet ready for testing.  It needed to stand for ten minutes, gently smoking before she could try it.  She extinguished her flame, cleaned her cauldron efficiently and packed up her equipment while she waited.

By now, Snape was peering into his cauldron, his expression tense.  He is breathing in those fumes, Hermione thought with a frown.  Why did he do it?  She knew he didn't use charms to protect himself because she'd never seen him used one in the 7 years she'd been at Hogwarts.  He'd taught the students how to use them and ensured that they did, so why didn't he?  Unaware she was doing it, her gaze grew more intense as she puzzled over this new question.

Maybe it was a form of self-punishment, she hypothesized?  Or maybe he was self-destructive?  Maybe he did feel guilt over his activities as a Death Eater and he really did despise himself.  Maybe he simply didn't care what happened to him anymore and he'd given up on life in a way.  In that case, the only thing that could possibly drive him was loyalty to Dumbledore and the possibility of being useful to him.

As though Snape could feel her eyes on him, he glanced up suddenly and looked right at her.  There was a dark frown of anger and annoyance on his face until he realized her stare was in no way hostile.

Hermione was so deep in her ponderings that she was no longer really seeing him even while looking right at him.

Snape felt odd.  He didn't like being looked at let alone stared intensely at.  He didn't like the shrewd intensity of her gaze but there was something more he couldn't name immediately because it was foreign to him.  He couldn't take his eyes off her face for a full minute.  Fortunately, the other students were frantically trying to finish their potions before end of class to notice their Potion Master's sudden stillness or obvious distraction.

Suddenly, Hermione snapped out of her compassionate reverie to find Snape staring fixedly back at her with a peculiar expression.  It was at once intense, perplexed, resentful, stunned and a bit bemused – almost hypnotized.  It was obvious he had no idea what to make of his top student staring steadily at him and he had been unsettled for once in his life.

"Miss Granger," he said, recovering immediately.  "I take it you have finished your potion?"  He said with characteristic contempt.

"Yes, sir."  She replied coolly.  

Snape hated her arrogant coolness.  "Is it ready to test?" he asked coldly.

She checked her timer.  "Just, sir."  She confirmed, gazing back at him unblinkingly.

"Well, I suggest you try it Miss Granger," he said sarcastically.

With a shrug, she drank it.  It tasted foul as all potions did.  She waited.  The potion was designed to reveal your animagus form by creating a pattern on your skin that lasted only 5 or so minutes.  Part of their homework had been to study common patterns that resulted from drinking this potion so they could recognize their own.  Most people would get common mammals, birds or reptiles of some type.

In a few seconds a pattern began to emerge.  _Good. The potion worked_, she thought.  _Now Snape can't sneer._  She frowned at it.  The pattern looked nothing like any of those she'd studied.  She bit her lip.  She'd fail, if she couldn't identify it.  Frantically, she began to sketching it in her notepad.  It didn't look like fur or feathers or even scales.

Snape waited until the potion should have begun to take effect, then stalked over to her bench and took her arm in one ice-cold hand.  The pattern showed best on the transparent skin of the inner forearm.  He turned her arm over and examined the pattern expertly.  His eyes narrowed and a strange look flittered over his face.

"You'll have to do research on this one, Miss Granger.  You have until end of exam week to give me the answer," he said, dropping her arm and going back to his own bench at the front of the room.

She gritted her teeth.  She was sure he knew what it was but he wasn't going to tell her nor was she going to ask for a hint or a clue.  She pressed her lips together and went back to sketching.  To her surprise, the pattern didn't go entirely.  She was sure Snape would take marks off her final grade because of that.

Meanwhile, thanks to Hermione's help Neville found out he was a rabbit.  Harry was a dog like his Godfather.  Draco was a ferret, much to her amusement.  Ron was a fox.  Crabbe was a toad and Goyle was a lizard.  Hermione sighed.  What the hell was she?

Hermione didn't feel Snape's gaze as they filed out of the Potion's lab after class.

* * *

Later that day Snape went back to his potion and brooded over it, missing dinner.  As he watched it bubble he suddenly remembered Hermione's stare earlier that day.  It had been pushed to the back of his mind with the startling revelation of her animagus form. 

What was it about her gaze that had paralysed him?  He added some dragon's blood to his potion and it fizzed.  He struggled for an answer.  Then it came to him.  She'd looked at him with compassion and empathy!  He nearly dropped too many dried fish eyes into his potion.  He frowned deeply.  When was the last time someone had felt compassion for him?  Dumbledore had of course; he had his deathless loyalty now but before that?  No-one.  Not ever.  Now this annoying school girl had and it changed something in him toward her.  He scowled.  He didn't like it.  He didn't want to feel… warmth or…. or gratitude towards her.  What did she really know about him anyway?  About what Death Eaters did?  The murders, torture and humiliations they had inflicted on their enemies. 

Snape's hands trembled as he added wormroot to his potion.  _Stupid girl_, he thought savagely.  She would soon lose her compassion if she knew the full extent of his crimes.  His black eyes glittered in the half light of the dungeons as he stirred the potion.  He hardened his heart toward her.  Her knew full well that if she knew the whole truth, she'd hate him.  Just like everyone else did; even those who didn't know the full truth.

He tossed some ground unicorn horn into the noxious mixture and sneered.  Where did Hermione find compassion for him so suddenly?  There had never been any evidence of it in the 7 years he'd been her Potions Master.  He deliberately ignored the memory or her sympathetic gaze or how it had seemed to burn a trail of warmth and comfort through him and nestle somewhere in the region of his chest.  He didn't want to remember the strange feeling.  It was alien and confusing and a distraction.  He had important work to do.  He glanced down into the murky depths of his cauldron.  Human sympathy was not a part of his life and never had been nor was it likely to become so.  Best not to explore the thought any further.

He stared sightlessly into the distance.  His eyes were empty of expression.  _Still_, he thought, _I don't think I can stand this half life much longer_.  His eyes wandered to the potion.  Half a goblet of it would finish him off, he calculated.  He could never bring himself to do it.  He was a lot of things but a coward, he wasn't.

His lips thinned.  Somehow, he'd have to find a way and a reason to continue living.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One "There is no man that hath power over the spirit to retain the spirit; neither hath he power in the day of death." Ecclesiastes 8:8  
  
Dumbledore was frowning deeply as he made his way to the gardens on the Eastern side of the school grounds. He was dreading having to tell Hermione the news he had just received by Muggle phone. He had sent to the Gryffindor common room first only to be told she was in her garden patch. A first year had offered to fetch her to him but he decided the news he had for her may be best received in familiar surroundings and away from others.  
  
He found Hermione sprinkling Osmocote on her pots of roses. "Hello, my dear," he said smiling at her healthy rose bushes.  
  
"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," she replied with a smile. Seeing Dumbledore around the grounds was a regular and pleasant thing.  
  
He examined the young woman before him. Her hair had darkened in a deep brown over the past few years and her features had fined down. She had started doing something to her hair to make it straight but it was still very thick and fell heavily around her face. She had certainly become one of the most attractive girls in her year, if not the school.  
  
"Your roses are the healthiest in the school," Dumbledore commented kindly.  
  
"Yes. It seems like I can only successfully grow roses and African violets," Hermione observed wryly. "I kill everything else off outright," she added and laughed.  
  
A flicker of a frown crossed Dumbledore's face and his eyes gleamed with sudden interest. "So, you can grow exotics that even experienced gardeners often fail at but ordinary plants are beyond you?" He observed with a twinkle in his pale blue eyes.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I'd never thought about it like that but I guess so." She smiled in amusement at her own perversity.  
  
Dumbledore sighed suddenly and looked serious. "Hermione, I didn't come down here to discuss your garden," he said gently. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."  
  
Hermione glanced at him, puzzled and frowning. He took her hand and looking sympathetically into her suddenly frightened face, he said, "It's your parents Hermione. I'm afraid they were both in a car accident and died immediately. I'm so sorry."  
  
Hermione looked at him blankly for so long he began to worry that she may have gone into deep shock. Finally she blinked and drew a deep breath. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She sat down abruptly on a stone bench nearby. After a long time she whispered, "when?"  
  
"Only an hour ago, Hermione. There was nothing the medics could do," he replied and sat down next to her.  
  
Hermione was never sure later how long she simply sat, zoned out and unable to think. Dumbledore stayed with her the whole time, as still as she. It was almost like a death watch but the death had already happened. Finally, Hermione looked up to see that night had just fallen.  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor. I've kept you out here all this while," Hermione said, her voice sounding strange to herself as though it came from a distance or it was really someone else talking.  
  
"That's quite alright, child. There's so little I can do to help you other than this," he gently patted her hand which she found strangely comforting. "I'll put you in a private room in my tower for the remainder of your last week here. You can get some peace there. You will also be relieved of your Head Girl duties."  
  
"Thank goodness my exams are over," she muttered rather characteristically.  
  
"Quite," Dumbledore replied. "That is one small blessing in all of this."  
  
"Professor?" Hermione said shakily.  
  
"Yes, child," Dumbledore replied benignly.  
  
"Can I still lead the procession on graduation day with Justin?" Justin Finch-Fletchly was the Head Boy that year. "M-mum and D-dad would have. been. so proud. to see me." Then the tears came. Dumbledore gathered her against him with one arm and held her tight.  
  
"Of course, you can. If you want to," Dumbledore murmured comfortingly and stared over her bent head with a sad and troubled expression as she cried.  
  
To Dumbledore's surprise, she didn't cry very long or very hard. She pulled herself together with unnatural speed and wiped her face with the hanky Dumbledore handed her.  
  
"I'd really like to go to bed now, Professor." She said finally, standing up. "I need to think through some of my plans for the future."  
  
"Of course, child but don't worry too much. We'll make sure your plans are interrupted as little as possible. You have a brilliant future and everyone at Hogwarts wants to see you fulfill it," he said gravely.  
  
She nodded and took Dumbledore's hand like a child when he stood up. They walked slowly to Dumbledore's office entry. "Chocolate cobblers," he said to the gargoyle that instantly leapt aside. Hermione managed a smile as she remembered the hard, chewy caramel sweet covered in chocolate that she'd eaten in the Muggle world as a child.  
  
A second later they were outside Dumbledore's office but rather than go in, Dumbledore tapped a simple tattoo on the stone wall to their right with his wand and it disappeared. Behind it was a corridor with many doors along both sides. Dumbledore led her past the first few doors to a redwood door inlaid with pale pink and white marble. He opened it and gestured inside. "This is your room for the next week. To get back here just use the same password at the wall as for my office door and it will open for you. I will ask the house elves to bring you some dinner and send a message to your friends to let them know what has happened." Dumbledore said quietly. "Tomorrow we can begin to sort out arrangements for your future and education." He patted her shoulder gently.  
  
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said gratefully as she walked into her new temporary room. She wanted to say more but realized that Dumbledore would probably understand anything she didn't know how to say anyway.  
  
When he smiled reassuringly at her and said, "good night, my dear" she knew he had. He handed her a small vial of sleeping potion and quietly closed the door as he left. He stood there for a moment staring sadly at the floor, contemplating one of the hardest things he had ever done as a Head Master and then slowly walked back to his office.  
  
* * *  
  
Dumbledore paced slowly in his office after sending off messages to the house elves, and to Ron and Harry - Hermione's best friends. He had alerted Padma Patil of the fact that she would be acting Head Girl except at the Graduation Ceremony for the next week. She had proved an excellent Vice Head Girl during the year and could easily fill the role for a week.  
  
What to do about Hermione's future? Dumbledore would assign McGonagall to organizing her parent's funeral. Hermione's closest relatives were in Australia and could not get here in time to make arrangements if they were prepared to come at all. There was no hostility between Hermione's family members but her Uncle had emigrated and married an Australian nearly 20 years ago. They had kept in touch but were not close and 20 years was a long time.  
  
He sent for MacGonagall and explained the situation. She was stunned to hear the news and genuinely distressed for Hermione. Hermione's academic confidence annoyed her at times but she cared about all the Gryffindors in her charge and she had known Hermione for nearly 7 years. "Oh Professor! How horrible! Poor Hermione. Will she be alright, do you think?" She fussed anxiously.  
  
"Yes, yes Minerva. We will give her all the help we can. I need more details before I can start helping Hermione make plans but one way or another, I'll ensure she continues her education and reaches her goals," Dumbledore reassured her.  
  
"Oh good," McGonagall said, obviously relieved. McGonagall went to make the necessary arrangements and Dumbledore began sending owls to gather the information he needed. One problem still plagued him. Who would act as her guardian until she turned 18? If she went to Australia to live with her Uncle until then, she would have to put University off for a full year. He was sure Hermione would not want to do that. In fact, he was sure she'd fight it tooth and nail. He was also sure her Uncle would not want to come back to Britain for the next three and a half months until she came of age either. It was not likely to be a practical option for him or his family. Dumbledore would have to appoint someone else.  
  
He remembered something about a much older, married, Muggle sister living in Germany but the same problem arose there as with the Australian branch of her family. Hermione would have to give up University for a year or her sister would have to come to Britain. As her sister was married, Dumbledore doubted she'd be keen to leave her husband for that long to look after a sister she barely saw.  
  
Dumbledore's mind drifted over the teaching staff. McGonagall, who was the logical choice was currently taking care of an ill sister and her family during each school holiday. Hooch had commitments to coach Quidditch camps during her time off. Flitwick would stand out dramatically in the Muggle world and was thus unsuitable. He wouldn't inflict Trelawny on Hermione for Hermione's own sake and Sprout couldn't afford to leave her exotic plants even for a week. Hagrid would be a good choice but Dumbledore had plans for him with Remus over the Summer months. Professor Vector would be traveling to America over the summer to lecture at Arithmancy summer schools there. That only left Professor Snape. Dumbledore frowned. Snape could do it but he wasn't sure it would be easy on either Hermione or Snape. They did not like each other at all and the situation would probably be unbearably awkward.  
  
Then again, if Hermione was good with difficult plants then maybe she could become good at managing a difficult person like Snape. The analogy pleased Dumbledore and he smiled to himself. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and gently pressed his fingertips together as he considered. They were both brilliant beyond the scope of the normal intellect. Unlike Snape, Hermione had the gift of friendship but they both could be anti-social and cranky. Both had strong wills and both had had difficult family backgrounds - a fact that Hermione had not revealed to anyone and Snape never discussed.  
  
Dumbledore's mind drifted to his discussion with Hermione in her rose garden. She could only succeed with difficult plants, ordinary plants' needs eluded her. She would probably be the same with people. She certainly didn't understand her uncomplicated friends, much as she loved them nor did she understand their needs as they were so different from her own. Maybe she could understand a difficult person like Snape in which case, Snape could benefit from his time with her. Snape also needed a break from being at the mercy of the Death Eaters' beck and call. In the Muggle world, he'd have a perfect excuse to not answer any summons he received. Hermione would have a dutiful and careful guardian until she came of age who would interfere as little as he could in her life.  
  
Dumbledore's mind was made up. Snape would be Hermione's guardian. Now to break the bad news to Snape. Dumbledore smiled.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione looked around the room that Dumbledore had given her with un- seeing eyes. It was a beautiful room, even in her current state of numbness she could see that. She didn't care where she was as long as it was private.  
  
She sat down heavily on the edge of the four poster bed. She knew she should bath and go to bed. Sleep was the best thing for her, she supposed but her head was still spinning. Not that there was one coherent thought amongst the ones that tumbled in her head. At least, not one that she could pin down. She felt dizzy.  
  
Activity was what she needed, she finally decided. She got up and looked in the drawers of a beautifully ornate dresser nearby. Sure enough it was full of basic items like sleepwear and underwear in different sizes. As she suspected, this was a room that had been used for students in distress many times.  
  
She pulled out a white cotton nightie and went in search of a bathroom. She found one just next door. It was even more magnificent than the Prefect's bathroom. It was done in white and grey marble with full sized statues of Greek gods around its perimeter and graceful columns surrounding a bath nearly as big as a swimming pool. Hermione pulled a face as she took all this in. She found it a bit pretentious but maybe it was just all in good fun. She shrugged and put a locking charm on the door, she had no idea who else might want to use this bathroom but she wanted it to herself for now.  
  
She tried various taps and settled for a flow of pale pink water with a feint glitter through it. She expected the smell to be nauseatingly sweet but it was rather fresh with an understated pretty scent that was not at all sweet. She stripped off quickly and got in. The temperature was perfect. She could have lolled on the steps but decided to strike out and swim a few laps. It felt good to have her muscles stretched and her heart pick up speed. She kept going until she had to stop to get her breath and then began lapping again. As Hermione was pretty fit and had a good swimming technique albeit not a fast one, she managed to do laps for well over an hour before her body began to really protest.  
  
She stayed in the water and washed her hair, adding more hot water. Then she soaped herself from head to toe with Raspberry bath gel.  
  
For the second time that day, Hermione lost track of the time gently floating in the bath like a cork. It was therapeutic though. It was such a new environment that there were no triggers to set off her currently well buried emotions. No over concerned friends, no personal belongings and no reminders of home.  
  
Finally, close to midnight she got out and dried herself off with a drying spell. She crept back to her room and used a hair straightening and drying spell - so much quicker than a blasted hair drier!  
  
Once more, she found herself sitting on that huge bed. She found a meal that had been left for her by the House Elves. She lifted the silver cover and had a look. Steak, mashed potatoes, mushrooms and greenbeans cooked with bacon - her favourite meal. How did they know? She smiled but put the cover back. It felt disrespectful to even be thinking of her stomach so soon after her parent's death even if she had an appetite which she didn't, the exercise having taken care of that.  
  
She glanced over to the sleeping potion. Slowly she got off the bed and picked it up. With a shrug she drank it quickly then climbed into the bed. She didn't remember anything after that. 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

_"Wherefore hast thou afflicted thy servant? and wherefore have I not found favour in thy sight, that thou layest the burden of..  this [person] upon me?"_

Numbers 11:11

****

Although it was now late at night, Dumbledore knew Snape would be awake.  He was a night creature that resented the light and loathed mornings.  He sent Fawkes down to fetch Snape as he knew Snape would recognize the importance of a message sent by his phoenix.

Sure enough, in less than 10 minutes Snape had stalked into Dumbledore's office and sunk into the seat Dumbledore offered him with a swirl of his black robes.  "You wanted to see me, Professor?" Snape rasped, regarding the Head Master with  his sharp, deep-set, black eyes under hooded lids.

"Yes Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, leaning back in his chair.  "I apologise for the late hour but it is a rather urgent matter.  One of our students has suffered a great tragedy today – one that affects her future."

"Her future?"  Snape repeated questioningly, his unreadable expression unchanged.

"Yes, Miss Hermione Granger lost both her parents today," Dumbledore continued.

A fleeting emotion flashed deep in Snape's eyes but it was gone before Dumbledore could put a name to it.  _Hermione again_, Snape thought.  It was the second time in the past few weeks that she had been brought forcibly to his attention via strange circumstances.  First, her strange gaze in one of her last Potion's classes and now this disaster.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Professor" Snape said in a neutral voice.  "How can I be of assistance?"

"Well, I am hoping what I am about to suggest will help both you and Miss Granger," Dumbledore hedged.  "Miss Granger now needs a guardian," he began.  Snape's eyes narrowed suddenly and his long fingered hands tensed on the arm rests of his chair as he guessed what was coming.  "Only for the next three and half months or so, until Miss Granger turns eighteen on the nineteenth of September."  Dumbledore continued as though he hadn't noticed Snape's reaction.  "After much thought, I decided it would be a perfect assignment for you Severus," he announced cheerfully.

Snape frowned darkly.  "What made you think of me, Professor?"  He asked, getting up to pace the room.  "Has she no family?  What about the other teachers?  More suitable, surely?" he argued.

"The family she has are not able to perform this task in this time frame, Severus.  It would be too inconvenient for them.  The only other option would be for her to put back her University attendance for a year which would be a shameful waste of time, would it not?  The other teachers will not be available during summer break," Dumbledore explained reasonably.  Snape stalked up and down the spacious office.  "Severus, do sit down.  You're making me feel tired," Dumbledore said finally and waved his wand over a pair of crystal tumblers.  He gave one to Snape who swallowed the contents in one burning gulp.  Dumbledore refilled his glass.

Snape sat down again, his long legs stretched out in front of him.  "Why me, Professor?  What's the real reason?" he asked finally, staring at the amber fluid in his glass.

Dumbledore sighed.  "You need to spend time away from those Death Eaters, Severus.  Thanks to you, we have managed to counteract the worst of their plans before too much damage has been done to the wizarding world but it's taken its toll on you.  You need a good three months off, away from the whole wizarding world."

"What about my teaching?  The first month of the next academic year…" Snape began but Dumbledore raised a frail hand.  He reached into a drawer and brought out the time turner.  "You can still make all your classes and still be there for Hermione during that month," he explained.

"How does Miss Granger feel about this?" Snape asked sourly.

"I haven't told her as yet," Dumbledore replied mildly.

"She won't like it," he predicted darkly.

"I doubt she'd care for any of her old teachers playing guardian," Dumbledore remarked.

"She especially dislikes me Professor, as you well know," Snape said, tossing back his drink.

"As I understand it, the feeling is mutual," Dumbledore observed pointedly.

Snape's thin lips compressed.  "I don't dislike her.  I just think she's an annoying, little miss-know-it-all," he said with a sneer.  

"Rather reminds me of a brilliant young man who used to attend Hogwarts years ago who ended up as our Potions Master," Dumbledore said with amusement.

"I was not that insufferable," Snape protested.

"No," Dumbledore agreed mildly.  "I believe you were worse."

Snape's dark eyes gleamed with resentment.  "I'm not going to put up with her being a brat," he said flatly.

"Hermione is the furtherest thing from being a brat I can imagine," Dumbledore stated firmly.  "All you need to do is live under the same roof for three and a half months.  If she has any real problems, you can always refer them to me."

Snape tried to imagine living in the same house as his former student and failed utterly.  "I take it this is an order?" Snape asked eventually.

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore replied directly.

Snape nodded curtly.  "Is that all, Professor?" he asked a trifle bitterly.

"For now," Dumbledore replied and escorted his guest to his office door.  Once Snape had gone Dumbledore sighed as he went back to his desk.  He had a feeling both Snape and Hermione were in for a rough three and a half months.

* * *

Snape stalked down to his dungeon rooms in a state of fine-edged disgust.  Fortunately there were no students about at that time of night, otherwise some major points would have been lost to whatever House the unlucky pupils he met belonged to.

His mood was black and his expression was blacker.  Now he had been reduced to baby sitting one of the most annoying students at Hogwarts.  _You only find her annoying because you know she's every bit as intelligent as you_, a small voice whispered at the back of his mind.  He told the little voice to shut up.

He had been looking forward to doing some important research over the long summer break.  It was the most peace and quiet he ever got.  Even the Death Eaters were usually quiet during the summer holidays.  Gone skiing in Switzerland or sun baking in Bermuda with their families most likely, he thought sourly.

Now that he was forced to endure nearly four months in the Muggle world – he shuddered at the mere thought, he couldn't even work on his research.  What the hell _would_ he do in Hermione's family home during summer break?  He'd never been in a Muggle home in his life, not even as a Death Eater.

He strode into his private apartments in the dungeon area and sat down in front of a small fire without glancing around.  There wasn't much to see anyway.  Hundreds of books, a desk covered in parchments, the one armchair in front of the fire and little else.  There were no pictures on the walls, no photos of friends or family, no personal items apart from necessities, no rug on the stone floor.

His elbow on the armrest of his chair, he rested his face on one long-fingered, pale hand and stretched his long, lean legs out in front of him.  He would do anything Dumbledore asked him to, of course.  That was exactly how he had ended up in this mess.  He would have preferred Dumbledore sending him on a suicide mission to Voldemort than ending up having to play guardian to a teen-age girl in the Muggle world.  Not just any teen-age girl either but that unendurable know-it-all, Hermione Granger.

The trouble was - he acknowledged to himself, that he had no idea how to handle her.  She had grown very pretty during her time at Hogwarts.  She had grown out of her big toothed, bushy haired, keen eyed adolescent self into an almost ridiculously pretty young woman – all thick, gleaming hair and long eyelashes and soft curves.  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  Unlike other pretty women though, she didn't play on it by being flirtatious or pretending to be stupid.  If she'd done that, he would have known exactly how to deal with her – with utmost contempt.  He would have had permission not to take her at all seriously and could have sneered at her for being a bimbo.  Unfortunately for him, she didn't do that.  Instead, she looked incredibly pretty and feminine which was distracting but also did nothing to disguise or tone down her lightening sharp mind which meant he had to take her seriously and pay attention when she asked questions or discussed anything with him.  It was un-nerving and tested his cool self-possession to the hilt.  He resented her for it.  Snape was rarely challenged by a student to stay on his toes and for that same student to be so distractingly pretty was to add insult to injury.  He hated her for it.  "Smart girls should be ugly," he muttered ferociously to himself.

Now he was stuck with her for an entire summer.  Stuck with, "sir, do you think if we…"; "sir, why don't we try…"; "sir, I was reading the other day…"; "sir, what made you decide to do it that way?"  Snape sighed deeply and sunk further into his chair.  He hated even the tone of her voice - soft and velvety but grating in its confidence. 

He glanced at his plain ebony clock.  It was nearly 2am.  He got up and with an evil glare toward the part of the castle that held Dumbledore's office, he went to bed.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three 

"This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you."

Genesis 9:12

Hermione woke late, the sleeping potion having been a strong one.  It was past 9am by the time her eyes opened.  She noticed a House Elf sitting by her bed, staring at the floor next to a tray of food.

"Dobby?" she said with a smile.

He looked up and smiled broadly across his ugly, little face.  "Hello, Miss Hermione.  Yes, I is Dobby.  I is come with your breakfast, Miss.  Must make sure you eat it, Miss.  Miss Hermione did not eat her supper.  Mr Dumbledore wants for you to eat up the whole breakfast now, Miss."  During this rapid fire speech Dobby brought the tray over and placed it on Hermione's lap.  "Mr Dumbledore wants for me to tell him the minute you've finished breakfast, Miss Hermione.  Mr Dumbledore wants to see you as soon as you're ready, Miss.  Has much to discuss and organize, Miss.  First you must eat breakfast so Dobby won't get into trouble, Miss."  

Hermione nodded, a bit dazed by Dobby's incessant speech.  Under the silver cover was toast, an omelet and hot coffee.  "I think I can manage this," Hermione said with a smile and began to eat while Dobby looked on with satisfaction.

"I is so sorry, Miss.  To hear about… to hear about… Well - you know, Miss."  Dobby looked at her sympathetically, wringing his tiny hands in distress.

She smiled gently at him.  "Thank you, Dobby."  She noticed he was wearing one sock with a koala on it and another pink sock with orange polka dots.  He was also wearing a bottle green, wool coat with shiny brass buttons and a truly hideous purple beret.

The small, ugly elf watched her anxiously until she'd eaten everything on her plate and then said, "I go now to tell Mr Dumbledore you will be with him soon."  He nodded enthusiastically at her and scampered out of the room before she could protest.

"Well, I suppose I'd better get dressed then," Hermione observed feeling rather grumpy about having to get out of bed.

Half an hour later she was outside Dumbledore's office.  "Come in, my dear" she heard him say as the doorway magically opened.  She stepped through and said good morning, and was about to thank him again for his care the previous evening when she noticed Snape was in the office too.

"Good morning, Professor Snape" she said, confused to see him there.  "Shall I wait outside Professor Dumbledore?" She asked, assuming that Snape's presence had nothing to do with her.

"No, no, my dear.  Professor Snape is here for your benefit.  Do sit down."  After making this remarkable statement, Hermione stared at Dumbledore's back as he walked over to his seat behind his desk.  Snape?  Here for her benefit?  That must be a joke.  Snape had never made any secret of the fact that he loathed her entirely.

Shooting a sideways glance at Snape's sneering face, Hermione sat down in an old-fashioned, up-right, Victorian style chair and waited for Dumbledore to explain.

He didn't seem in any hurry.  He looked from Snape's surly face to Hermione's carefully calm expression, pressing his fingertips together contemplatively.

"Well, Hermione.  How are you feeling this morning?"  He asked compassionately, after a long pause.

"I'm okay, I think.  Still a bit in shock probably," she said with a shrug.  After all, what more could she say?

Dumbledore nodded.  "Quite.  We have a lot to sort out.  Do you think you're up to it today?" He queried soothingly.

Hermione nodded.  "I'd like to get the details and arrangements out of the way as soon as possible, to be honest.  Then I don't have to worry about it on top of everything else," she replied honestly.

Against his will, Snape was impressed at how calm she sounded and the fact that she was making sense.  He had expected a slightly hysterical school girl but was seeing a mature young adult.  It annoyed him that she kept surprising him.  He liked to understand everyone around him better than they understood themselves.  It gave him tactical advantage in controlling any situation he was in.  Hermione tended to keep thwarting his efforts to second guess her – she always had and it was getting worse as she got older.  The worst of it was that she wasn't even aware she was doing it.

Dumbledore had been nodding while Snape was wallowing in these bitter thoughts.  "As you like, my child.  First of all, I have contacted your parents' Muggle lawyer and he is currently taking care of the Muggle legal details for you regarding their will.  They have left everything to you with a small amount in trust for your sister's children," he informed her calmly.

Hermione nodded.  "Mum told me years ago that I would get almost everything," she said matter-of-factly and without apology.

Snape frowned.  Didn't Hermione consider it odd that her parents wouldn't have left their property to both daughters in a 50/50 split?  Why didn't it make her uncomfortable?  Again, it was another Hermione mystery.

"Yes," Dumbledore was saying.  "That leaves you quite well off in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds, Miss Granger.  Of course, you are not of age yet which means you will need to apply to your parents' lawyer for funds but that won't be a problem for just the next three and a half months.  He has said he's quite happy to advance as much as you need once a guardian has been appointed."

"A guardian?"  Hermione repeated blankly.  Of course, she thought.  I won't be eighteen for another three and a half months.  "Who were you thinking….?" She began.

"I've thought about this long and hard, Miss Granger.  None of your family are in a position to undertake this role and although any of our teachers here would be willing, there is only one of us who is realistically able to do so."  Dumbledore said.  

It was then the horrible realization broke over her.  She stared at Dumbledore, unable to make herself look at Snape.  Snape stared at his own hands, clasped loosely in front of him.  His long, raven black hair fell forward over part of his face.  He didn't want to look at her either.

Dumbledore looked at them both and would have smiled if it wouldn't have defeated his own purpose.  "I spoke to Professor Snape last night and he has kindly agreed to act as your guardian for the next three and a half months or so until you turn 18.  He will return to your parents' home with you and help you put their affairs in order while you prepare for university," he continued, pretending there wasn't really an atmosphere so thick with tension you could have cut it with a knife.

"He's…. coming to my home?  My Muggle home?"  Hermione clarified, sounding a bit stunned.

"Yes, Miss Granger" Dumbledore confirmed blithely.  "I told him a stint in the Muggle world wouldn't do him any harm.  He needs a change of scenery," he added, looking cheerfully at Snape who scowled back at him.  "Does that mean you agree to having Professor Snape as your guardian for now?" he added benignly to Hermione.

Hermione turned to Snape and looked at him carefully.  He equally carefully did not look back.  She narrowed her eyes at him and then turned back to Dumbledore.  "Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape does not want to do this.  He's agreed to do it out of obligation to you."  She stated baldly.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling.  "Very perceptive of you, Hermione.  Let's call it 'a special assignment' for Professor Snape, shall we?"

"Let's not.  Let's call it a big imposition on Professor Snape which is exactly what it is," Hermione said crisply, her voice unyielding.

Snape looked at her with sharply, his surprise at her tone of voice evident.  He was about to say something sarcastic and nasty but Dumbledore got in before him with, "I appreciate your concern about imposing on Professor Snape, Hermione but he really is our only option now and as he has been so kind as to consent I'm afraid we will have to make this imposition on him for now."  Dumbledore looked at Hermione with a calm sympathy that strangely did make her feel slightly better.  At least they weren't trying to pretend it was something that Snape had agreed to willingly.

Snape compressed his mouth and decided to stay silent as Hermione relaxed slightly in her chair but the tension in his slim frame was evident.  It was annoying that she knew him so well that she had accurately guessed his feelings on the matter.  Not that he'd made any secret of his antipathy to her over the years.  Even worse than guessing his feelings, she'd voiced them unreservedly in front of Dumbledore.  His dark eyes glowered at the rich carpet on the floor.

A small smile tugged at one corner of Dumbledore's mouth as he glanced over at the bad-tempered teacher.  "Now, my dear.  If you and Snape will both give me one of your hands I will seal the contract," he said placidly.

Hermione looked at Dumbledore in surprise.  "Contract?" She repeated questioningly.

"Yes, Miss Granger.  For Snape to act as your guardian, there has to be a magical contract," he explained benignly. 

That was news to Snape too - unpleasant news at that.  He was still hoping for a last minute reprieve or that someone else could be found part-way through the nearly four month period before she turned 18 to take his place.  Once there was a magical contract in place, he was stuck until her next birthday.  If Hermione hadn't been there, he would have sworn roundly.  As it was, he frowned menacingly and then reluctantly got up and gave his hand to Dumbledore with a distinct air of resignation.

Hermione watched all this by-play with something rather deeper than irritation.  She thought about it for a minute and then realized that she was hurt.  His obvious lack of enthusiasm and distaste stung more than she wanted to admit.  She couldn't believe after seven years of his sarcasm and downright cruelty at times that he was still capable of hurting her feelings but obviously he was.

Hermione looked at Dumbledore from under a heavy lock of hair that sometimes fell over one eye.  He looked back at her with a gentle expression.  He understood what she was feeling, it was perfectly obvious from the empathy in his blue eyes.  "My dear, you have no choice," he said soothingly.

Without looking at Snape, she too got up and gave Dumbledore her left hand across his desk.  He took both their hands in his and closed his eyes.  He muttered something very long in latin and a faint blue light shone around their hands clasped in his.  Hermione watched carefully as the same blue light then traveled up their arms and formed a bridge between her solar plexus and that of Snape.  Hermione was horrified.  She had been magically linked to Snape!  She suddenly felt very sick.

That was nothing to the way Snape was feeling.  Not only did he feel sick, he felt an inherent sense of wrongness.  This young woman had been his pupil for seven years.  Now there was an unbreakable bond between them for the next few months.  It was too intimate and too sudden a shift for him to accept.  Snape had never been close to anyone in his life and now there was an odd, false intimacy that the contract had created between him and someone he very much preferred to keep at a distance.

Hermione's face was white by the time Dumbledore let go of their hands.  "Why doesn't that thing go away?"  Hermione said, gesturing to the bridge of blue light that still connected the two adversaries even once back in their chairs. Dumbledore thought she sounded remarkably like she was on the verge of a tantrum which wasn't like the Hermione that he knew at all, he reflected.

"It will go in a minute," he said reassuringly and sure enough it did.  "Now, would you like to go and see your friends my dear?  There is nothing more you can do for the remainder of this week until you go home."

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath. "Yes, thank you Professor Dumbledore."  She still sounded shaky, even to her own ears but she got up and left the office with a final, small smile at the Head Master that she respected and liked so much.

Once she had left, Dumbledore turned to Snape and regarded the closed-faced man carefully.  "Well, Serverus.  That was a display," he commented mildly.

"I'm sorry, Professor but Hermione is not one of my favourite people."  He responded dryly.

"You couldn't have made that more obvious if you tried," Dumbledore replied just as dryly.  "Just do you duty by her, Severus and try and be gentle with her.  She's just suffered a huge loss.  No one is asking any more than that.  You don't have to like her."

"Just as well," he sneered, then remembered the scent from her hair as they stood next to each other at Dumbledore's desk - lemon peel and fresh grass and a clean, musky scent uniquely her own.  Angrily he pushed the thought away.  "Is that all for now, Professor?"

"Yes, thank you.  Just be ready to leave Hogwarts for three months or so by the end of the week," he replied implacably.  Snape nodded and glided gracefully out of his office, his tension evident in his gait.

"Well, it's an experiment Fawkes." Dumbledore commented to his phoenix after he watched Snape leave.  "I don't know if it will work.   I still think Severus has more to gain than Hermione although he thinks he's the one being imposed on."  Fawkes looked at him out of one firey eye.  "Hermione can still find other friends and confidants in her life but she may be Severus' last and only chance for a normal life."  Was it his imagination or did Fawkes look dubious?


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four 

_"A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity."_

Proverbs 17:17

It was lunchtime when Hermione had finished in Dumbledore's office and she went of search of her friends in the Great Hall.  Sure enough, they were at the head of the Gryffindor table with the other Prefects.  Ron and Harry spotted her as she came towards them and they stood up and rushed over to her immediately.  Both of them crushed her in a bear hug.

"Hermione!"  Harry said, obviously relieved.

"We've been worrying ourselves sick about you!" Ron said anxiously.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears which she tried to blink away rapidly.  She hated crying in public and had never done so at Hogwarts.  "Do you know….?" She began hesitantly, overwhelmed with gratitude to see her friends.

"Yeah, 'Mione.  McGonagall told all the Gryffindors last night after dinner.  We were asking about you when you didn't show up," Harry replied, his face still wrinkled with concern.

"I suppose it's stupid to ask if you're okay," Ron said wryly, escorting her back to the table where curious Gryffindors were kindly trying not to stare too hard.

"I'm okay," Hermione sniffed and pulled out a hanky she'd taken from the room Dumbledore had given her.  "I feel a bit… I dunno… disconnected from it all," she explained hesitantly.  "I guess it still doesn't seem quite real."

"Shock," Ron said, nodding knowledgably.

"Yeah probably," Hermione said with a weak smile.

They sat down again.  Ron with Hermione on his one side and his girlfriend, Padma sat on the other.  Harry sat on Hermione's other side with his girfriend, Ginny on the other.  Both Padma and Ginny smiled sympathetically at Hermione.

"So, what now Hermione?" Harry asked gently, taking Ginny's hand and looking keenly at his friend.

"I'm going home at the end of the week, along with everybody else.  As you probably know, Padma will take over my Head Girl duties for now.  Thanks Padma," she said to the pretty, dark haired girl.  

Padma smiled back.  "Hey, no problem."

"Then, I'm going to have to sort out the will and what to do about the house and their belongings and so forth," Hermione continued.

"Won't you need some help with that?" Ron asked, forking some mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"Yeah.  Dumbledore has appointed a guardian for me," Hermione mumbled, beginning to dish up some lunch for herself.

"Who?" Harry asked casually, dabbling a bit of roast beef in his gravy.

Hermione was silent.  Four pairs of curious eyes fixed on her, suddenly suspecting something was up.

"Er… Professor Snape," she finally said in a rush, going red for some reason.

"Professor Snape!"  Ron practically yelled.  "You must be kidding!  Why would Dumbledore appoint that great, slimey git?"  All four of them stared disbelievingly at her.

"He said no one in my family could do it and that none of the other teachers were available," Hermione said miserably.  "He's no more keen on the idea than I am, that's for sure," she added almost petulantly.

Harry looked flummoxed.  Ron looked ropeable.  Padma looked thoughtful and Ginny looked speculatively at Padma, as though she suspected that the other had the same thoughts as her.

"Well, look on the bright side Hermione.  You and Professor Snape have a lot in common," she said reasonably.  This time three pairs of disbelieving eyes focused on Ginny.  Only Padma looked unsurprised by what Ginny said.

"What?" Ron actually did yell this time.  "What on earth does Hermione have in common with that greasy bastard?"

"Well," Ginny said defensively, "both of them are really smart, right?  Practically geniuses.  They both like nothing better than to study and experiment.  They both spend a lot of time with books rather than other people.  I mean, at least they'd be able to talk at each other's level."  She looked appealingly around at the group for support.  Ron looked at her like she was crazy.  Harry looked thoughtfully confused.  Padma looked speculative.

"I do not have anything in common with Professor Snape," Hermione said through clenched teeth.  "He hates me and I hate him. It's really very simple!"

"Maybe away from school and classes you can start relating to each other like a pair of adults rather than a student and a teacher," Padma suggested sensibly.

"He hates me because I'm a Gryffindor and a friend of Harry's, Padma. It goes beyond the student/teacher thing," Hermione said flatly.

Padma shrugged as though she didn't really agree but couldn't be bothered arguing further.  "If you say so."

Hermione picked at her food and the conversation shifted to the safe topic of Quidditch for a while.  "Are you coming out to the Quidditch pitch with us this afternoon?" Harry asked Hermione at the end of lunch.

"No thanks, Harry" Hermione said with a smile at him.

"What are you going to do?" Ginny asked sensitively.

"Dumbledore has given me a private room and I might go up and just read for a bit or take a nap.  It's been a bit of a roller coaster for me the past 24 hours," she replied honestly.

Harry nodded and they waved as they headed out into the sunshine of the quadrangle.  Hermione headed back up to her room and lay on the bed, trying to think and clear her mind to make plans but her head felt as light and empty as a balloon.  Once more, she lapsed into a time warp and before she knew it it was way past dinner time and lights out.

* * *

That night, she went for another late night swim in the huge bath next door and collapsed tiredly into bed.  Without sleeping potion, she couldn't get to sleep so she climbed out of the bed again and put on a robe and slippers she found in the room.  She thought about heading to the top of one of the towers.  They were generally occupied by snogging couples most nights but there was one on the far side of the castle away from the dormitories that was usually free of people due to it's distance from the inhabited areas of the castle.

She decided to fly up there as it was quicker than walking and she was less likely to get caught.  She was a good flier, she just was hopeless at Quidditch.  In fact, she was hopeless at any team sport.  Her mind was too one-track to ever succeed at the multi-tasking that team sport required.  She took her broom from the pile of her belongings that someone had thoughtfully brought to her room – probably one of the house elves.

She landed softly in the cool night air on top of the tower.  The view of the night sky was breath-taking and she wondered why they didn't hold the Astronomy lessons up here.  She took a deep breath. On the rare nights she couldn't sleep during her seven years at Hogwarts, she had always come up here.  She had discovered the place early on during her stay at Hogwarts but had never shared it with anyone.  She only came up here maybe once or twice a year anyway.  She usually had no problem getting to sleep.

Snape watched her through narrowed, resentful eyes.  Every now and then she did appear up here to invade his space.  It wasn't every often but so far he had always managed to conceal his presence.  He shrunk into the deep shadows next to a wall and waited for her to leave - she usually only stayed an hour or so.  This was the one place that Snape could be in the fresh air and not feel exposed or vulnerable.  No one could see him in the unlit night air on this tower and no one disturbed his solitude.  He treasured this place as his own and disliked her intrusion intensely.

It was a cool night but with no edge to it.  Summer was definitely near and her robe was too heavy.  As she was wearing a full length cotton nightie under it, she didn't feel self-conscious taking her robe off.  Snape was alarmed. He hoped she had no intention of taking anything else off.  As it turned out, she didn't and he relaxed reflecting that she looked like a ghost in the almost Victorian style nightie.  She stood so still for so long that Snape began to worry.  Was she in her right mind?  He hoped she wasn't planning on throwing herself off the tower.  He didn't think he'd be very good at talking round suicidal teen-agers.

Finally she went and sat down next to the battlements, curled in a ball and with her face turned away from him.  It wasn't long before she was fast asleep.

_Well - this is just great_, Snape thought irritably. Now what did he do?  He couldn't just leave the child here to freeze when it cooled down in the early morning hours which weren't that far off.  On the other hand he couldn't wake her up and tell her he'd been inadvertently spying on her for the past goodness knows how long she'd been up there.  Snape railed over his predicament and methodically cursed her, Dumbledore and everyone else he could think of.  Why couldn't Potter or Weasley come and find their little friend, damn it?

Finally, he pulled out his wand and using a gentle levitation spell he carefully lifted her into his arms. He would have levitated her all the way back to her room but the spell was exhausting – more so than if he'd just carried her as he planned to.

Thank goodness she didn't snore and was small, he thought with aggravation as he set off for her room in Dumbledore's tower which he'd been told about as her guardian.  He cursed his luck when he came across two young Hufflepuffs sneaking their way back from one of the more popular towers.  "Ten points each from Hufflepuff," he said swiftly, as though it wasn't at all odd for him to be carrying around a seventh year in just her nightie at 2am in the morning.  They stared wide eyed at him, for once more interested in what he was doing than in the fact they'd just lost 20 points for their House.

Right on cue, the sleeping girl sighed and snuggled against his chest as though seeking warmth.  The two Hufflepuff's eyes got very big at that point.  "Are you waiting for me to take some more points from your House?" he hissed at them.  They scurried off towards their common room and he looked grimly down at Hermione.  Was there any need for her to press her face against his chest like that, he wondered or for her to have slipped her arms around him?  He could smell her hair again with the added freshness of having been out in the night air.  He hurriedly stepped up his pace as he approached Dumbledore's tower.  He knew she wasn't heavy for a girl but she felt heavy.  After all, he was a slender man himself and wasn't used to lugging people around.  Besides, she kept snuggling closer to him and it was discomforting him badly.

He placed her carefully on her bed once he reached her room.  Of course, she would choose that moment to wake up.  He froze just as he was about to stand up, his face inches from hers.  She blinked a bit and looked at him hazily.  Then her eyes got very wide.  "Snape?  What are you doing here?" she said, beginning to sit up and readjust the neckline of her nightie.

He gratefully retreated to the other side of the room and averted his eyes from the creamy skin exposed around her neck and shoulders.  "I was bringing you down from the tower where you'd obviously decided to freeze to death," he jeered scornfully.

She frowned and pushed her hair out of her face.  "Of course, I remember going up there now.  How did you find me?" she asked, a bit suspiciously.

"I was already up there, minding my own business and trying to get some fresh air," he said, turning away from her with his characteristic sneer.

"Why didn't you tell me you were already there?  I would have left – immediately!" she replied sulkily.

"I was hoping you would leave anyway, without my having to give away my presence. I use that tower to get some much needed solitude.  I didn't want students knowing I went up there," he explained icily.

"I wouldn't have thought you needed to go that far to find all the solitude you wanted," she muttered under her breath.

He heard and drew in his breath sharply at the cruelty underlying that careless remark.  "What were you doing up there, Miss Granger?" He demanded stiffly.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted with a sigh.

"Well, you managed it on the tower," he said mockingly, his voice hard.

"Yes," she said on another sigh and got up to dig out another robe as it had suddenly turned cold.

He watched her coldly.  "Do you want some more sleeping potion?" he asked suddenly.

She was tying on another robe and looked at him, surprised.  "Yes, I probably will need more," she admitted with a shrug.  Then she did something that Snape had seen her do many times before.  She drew her bottom lip slightly under her top lip and bit it gently.  It made her look ridiculously child like and defenseless as it was always accompanied by a distracted, apprehensive look.  Her top lip was slightly larger than her bottom lip as it was which gave her face a naturally ingenuous, vulnerable look at times.  Her habit of biting her lower lip only made it worse.  That and the fact that it then made her mouth look red and swollen like she'd just been thoroughly kissed.  Snape felt the skin over his cheekbones begin to burn and he abruptly turned away again.

"Come on, then.  You can come with me and fetch it," he commanded harshly.

Hermione shrugged and followed him out of the room and back towards the dungeons where he kept his potions.  He kept one step ahead of her easily, due to his long legs and Hermione was damned if she was going to trot to keep up with him.  On the way there, they bumped into another couple.  This time the girl was from Ravenclaw and the boy was from Slytherin.  "Ten points each," he said in clipped tones, not breaking his stride.

"But sir," the boy protested.  "What about her?  She's the Head Girl and she's out of bed after hours."  He pointed to Hermione.  Hermione glared back but Snape whirled around and did a far more chilling job of it.

"Yes but Miss Granger is with me," he said through clenched teeth.  If the boy had not been from Slytherin, Snape would have taken off another 10 points for sheer cheekiness.  The boy's eyes grew wide from the implications of that remark and Hermione looked with horror at Snape, only to see his retreating back.  With an angry sigh, she followed him down into the dungeons.

"Wait here," he said curtly at the door to his office.

He came back less than a minute later with a large bottle of sleeping potion.  "Only 3 drops are needed, Miss Granger.  As you know, it's not addictive or harmful.  If you have any side-effects, come and see me about it immediately," he said brusquely, looking down at her superciliously with hooded eyes.  Just once, Hermione thought suddenly, she'd like Snape to look at her with something other than contempt, dislike, indifference or anger.  She stared at him silently for such a long time that Snape frowned darkly down at her.  "Well, Miss Granger?  Is that all or are you going to impose on my time still further?" he snapped.

"It looks like I'll be taking over your life for the next few months so you'd better get used to it," she said coolly.

His face tightened with anger.  "So it would seem but don't get too complacent, Miss Granger.  I'm not about to start putting up with any rubbish from you simply because you are my ward," he sneered.

"How about because I've just lost both my parents?" she said pointedly.  Then she turned on her heel and left, leaving a stunned and seething Snape behind her.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five 

_"Faithful are the wounds of a friend."_

Proverbs 27:6

****

Snape went back into his rooms after Hermione headed back to Dumbledore's tower.  His thin lips were tight with anger.  He realized he was angry because she had successfully made him feel guilty for being insensitive.  He wasn't usually guilty when he was cruel but being her guardian did mean he should be more careful, he supposed.

It was nearly morning and tiredly he dragged himself to bed.  If he skipped breakfast, he may get as much as four hours sleep.  Once there however, he tossed and turned.  The evening's events played through his mind over and over.  Worst of all, he couldn't rid himself of the feel of her soft skin and warm body.  He could remember the scent of her hair and clothes as well as if she were lying right next to him.  Colour crept up over his angular cheekbones as that picture came clearly to mind.  He squashed in wrathfully.  She was a 17 year old girl, he told himself.  He was 20 years her senior.  Not only that but she'd been his student and now was a legal ward.  What he just thought was not only inappropriate and unethical, it was actually illegal in the wizarding community.

He was incensed with himself.  He had not allowed himself to think of women since he became a Death Eater in his youth.  Women were a distraction he could never afford constantly walking the tightrope he was on.  As he had no stomach for rape or prostitutes, it had been a pretty lonely couple of decades.  As women had not seemed to miss him on the whole, he'd written romance off very early in life.  Now here he was unable to get his mind off a mere child like he was some thirteen year old boy with a first crush.  His skin burned again in humiliation.  He glanced over at his clock.  It was 5am - so much for getting a lot of sleep.

Back in her room, Hermione took some sleeping potion and climbed into bed.  Just before she fell asleep she had the fleeting memory of Snape leaning over her earlier, a mysterious expression on his face.  She fell asleep smiling.

* * *

Hermione slept all through that day, only waking in time for dinner.  Hurriedly she got dressed and went down to see her friends.  They were relieved to see her looking okay and she told them what had happened; to her amazement, the looked uncomfortable.  "What is it?" she demanded directly, seeing their faces.

"Well," Harry looked nervously around.  "There are some rumours going around," he began, abashed.

"Yeah Hermione," Ron chimed in.  "Everyone is saying that you and Snape were seen around the school last night together and… and…"

"And everyone is saying that you and Snape are… you know."  Harry butted in, then blushed.

Hermione stared wide eyed at her friends.  "Do you believe this rubbish?" She snapped.

"Well, you and Snape were missing all day today," Ginny began uncertainly.

"But both showed up for dinner," Padma finished bluntly, nodding at the head table where Snape sat talking to McGonagall.

"He was probably doing the same as me – sleeping!" Hermione said as though it should be obvious.

"Yes but… the Hufflepuffs were saying Rowena and Mark saw Snape carrying you around in just your nightie," Ron said accusingly.

"Yes, I accidently fell asleep on one of the towers and Snape bought me down.  Then he gave me some more sleeping potion!"  Hermione explained impatiently.

"What where the two of you doing alone on a tower?" Ron protested.

"I didn't even know he was there!  I went there because I couldn't sleep!"  Hermione explained, starting to feel desperate.  It did look bad, she suddenly realized.

"What was _he _doing there?" Ginny wondered aloud, softly.

Hermione shrugged.  "When I asked him that he said he went there for solitude," she repeated.  Four pairs of eyes stared at her.  "That's what he said," she repeated.

"Well, everyone's talking 'Mione," Harry reiterated.  "Just giving you fair warning."

She glanced around to find the off pairs of eyes fixed on her from various tables.  Some young Hufflepuff was pointing at her and giggling.  Hermione's cheeks burned.  She glanced unintentionally at Snape and found him studying her.  He sneered slightly in his typical way then began a conversation with Professor Vector.

Hermione threw her napkin on the table.  "I'm going to my room," she announced and got up and walked off before her friends could protest.  She didn't know it but Snape's black eyes followed her progress out of the hall and half the students watched Snape watching her with curious eyes.

* * *

Hermione went to Dumbledore's office after dinner time.

"Ah, my dear.  I was expecting you.  Have some tea and hot scones," he said kindly, indicating a chair to her.  Her stomach was empty.  She hadn't eaten much in the past couple of days.  Dumbledore poured her some tea and loaded up a scone with jam and cream for her.  He let her finish it before he asked, preparing another scone for her "how can I help you?"

"Did you tell the school about what happened to my parents?"  Hermione asked in a small voice.

"Yes, my dear," he said gently, handing the second scone to her.

"Have you told them about my being Professor Snape's ward?" she asked hopefully.

"No.  I don't think it's essential information for all the students," he said placidly as he watched her toy with the second scone.

"There are rumours going around," she blurted out.

"I know, my dear but the people who matter know the truth," Dumbledore said compassionately.

"They're saying that… that…" Hermione began uncomfortably.

"I know what they're saying, my dear but it's not true and you're leaving us in a few days so why worry?" he asked gently.

She nodded unhappily and put the untouched scone down.  "Thank you Sir," she mumbled and left his office.  On the way back to her room she started having an asthma attack.

Dumbledore sent for Snape.

* * *

Snape's face tightened with annoyance when he heard what Dumbledore told him.  "So what have these stupid rumours got to do with me?" he snapped at Dumbledore.

"I'm more worried about Miss Granger's reaction.  She's repressing her emotions and it's causing enormous pressure on her.  A silly thing like this could be very hard for her," he explained patiently.

"And?  This is my problem because?" Snape growled.

"Because you're her guardian now and your actions last night has caused her problems," he said inflexibly.

"_My_ actions?"  Snape said disbelievingly.

"Yes, carrying a girl in a nightie around in the middle of the night wasn't wise Severus," Dumbledore pointed out.

Snape sighed.  "It was the quickest way," he protested.

"It wasn't the wisest way," Dumbledore replied unequivocally.  

Snape got up and prowled around the office.  "So what do you want me to do?" He finally asked, his exasperation apparent.

"Go and talk to her," he directed.  "Calm her down.  Comfort her."

Snape looked at him like he had started speaking Swaheli.  "I don't know how to do that!" he barked.

"Well, it's time you learned," was Dumbledore's reply.

"She won't want me to!" Snape said with a hint of bitterness.

"You don't know that," Dumbledore argued calmly.

"Yes, I do!"  Snape hissed, whirling around to face Dumbledore.  "None of the students like me."

"You make sure of that quite deliberately," Dumbledore observed coolly.

"Yes but now, I can't just go and… go and…"

"Be pleasant?  Be soothing?  Be kind?  Be compassionate?" Dumbledore supplied.

"Yes!" Snape retorted.

"Yes, you can.  She'll learn to trust you in time.  She has to.  That's your job.  May as well start now,"  the white-haired Head Master said simply.

Snape wanted to kick something but instead, stalked out of the office with his cloak billowing behind him.  Dumbledore chuckled.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
"All darkness shall be hid in his secret places: a fire not blown shall consume him." Job 20:26  
  
Snape knocked on Hermione's door but there was no answer. "Miss Granger, may I come in?" he asked, his voice cold. No reply. "Miss Granger!" No reply. "I'm going to have to come in, so you've been warned," he finally said and undid the locking charm on the door. Being a Death Eater had its advantages sometimes.  
  
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a small object he didn't recognize. "Miss Granger, why didn't you open the door?" he began when he noticed she was shaking, pink in the cheeks and breathing strangely. "What is it?" he said harshly.  
  
She looked at him with an unusual fright in her large, dark eyes. "Asthma," she panted. Her hands shook horribly. Snape went a shade paler. "You're going to Nurse Pomphrey," he ordered.  
  
"It's. okay. Took. inhaler," she held up the strange object. "Needs. time to work."  
  
Snape paced up and down the room. "What brought this on?" he snapped.  
  
She frowned. "Usually exercise or stress. Must. be stress," she smiled weakly.  
  
"How often does this happen?" he asked, his frown getting darker when her shaking did not decrease.  
  
She couldn't answer straight away. "Not often. Hardly. ever."  
  
"How long ago did you take that?" he asked, pointing to the inhaler.  
  
"Half an hour," she replied, her fear increasing.  
  
"Take more," he commanded, in clipped tones.  
  
She looked at him helplessly but did as he said. He sat in a chair in the corner of the room and watched her closely as through she was a lab rat or an experiment. Her shaking got worse and her face pinker after the second dose. Snape's hands clenched as he watched with narrowed eyes. After 15 minutes or so, she was shaking less and the panting had nearly gone. "I feel like crap." Hermione declared at last. So did Snape. "Why did you come here?" she asked him.  
  
"Er. Dumbledore told me to," Snape said awkwardly.  
  
"Why?" she asked bluntly.  
  
"Ummm. to find out if you were okay," Snape replied, fiddling with his cloak. Hermione stared with fascination of the beautiful, strong, slender hands. Apart from the fact they were blue white, they were exquisite hands for a man. She had often caught herself staring at them in class over the years.  
  
"Obviously not," she said ironically, tearing her gaze away from his hands. Her hands still trembled slightly as she put her inhaler on the bedside table. Snape observed this, displeased at her condition.  
  
"What's bothering you?" he asked coolly. It wasn't a tone that inspired confidences.  
  
"Well. Let's see. My parents are dead, I have a guardian who hates me and now the whole school things I'm fucking aforesaid guardian." Hermione said sharply.  
  
Snape's head snapped up and he stared at her with glittering, black, unreadable eyes. She stared right back, trying to control her body's slight trembling from the asthma. "What makes you think that?" Snape murmured, sounding more dangerous then when he hissed.  
  
"Well. I know my parents are dead because Dumbledore told me so. I know you hate me because you've never made any secret of the fact. I know the school thinks I'm fucking you because my friends told me as such," she replied sarcastically.  
  
"Will you stop saying that word?" Snape snarled suddenly.  
  
"No! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Hermione yelled, her eyes narrowed.  
  
"You have the mouth of a gutter snipe!" he said with icy disdain.  
  
"Oh, not a Death Eater's whore?" she challenged, eyes gleaming. The gloves were off with a vengence now, she thought.  
  
Two spots of red appeared in Snape's cheekbones. "How dare you!" he whispered, getting up suddenly and stalking over to loom ominously over her.  
  
"Oh no! That tactic is not going to work anymore." Hermione bit out, and got up and stood on the bed glaring down at him. "No more looming over me!"  
  
"Miss Granger, get down!" He commanded furiously.  
  
"Make me, why don't you?" she said flippantly. "I'm not your student anymore."  
  
"No but you are my ward. Now, as I told you - get down!" he said through clenched teeth.  
  
"Nope. You just don't like people standing over you for once," she taunted. He turned around infuriated and Hermione hopped down expecting him to go back to his seat but he didn't, he turned around again only to find himself almost standing on top of her. As Hermione was small, not much more than 5'3" the top of her head only reached Snape's chest. He expected her to step away from him but she didn't, if anything she leaned closer and glared up at him ferociously. The very fact that she wasn't trying to get away from him stunned him so that he stood very still staring down at her, quite paralysed. Why wasn't she repulsed by him, he wondered dimly? The shock must have showed on his face because her face cleared and she asked, "what's wrong?"  
  
He clenched his hands and said condescendingly, "nothing. I'm glad you've had the sense to get down. You shouldn't be doing that so soon after an asthma attack." He stalked back to his seat and sat down, glowering darkly at her and glad his cloak covered up his body's shameful reaction to her physical proximity. He crossed his long legs deliberately. "Now," he began stiffly, "the rumours around the school are rubbish as we both know. You'll be leaving in a few days. Don't worry about it."  
  
She nodded, sitting down on the bed cross-legged and putting her small, sharp chin in one hand. She looked dejected. He never remembered seeing her look dejected before. She always looked confident - precociously so. Annoyingly so. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had the ridiculous urge to comfort her suddenly but didn't dare go over and sit near her. Especially not on a bed.  
  
"Was that it?" She asked dully.  
  
"Er. yes. I think so," he replied, fiddling with his gown again. She nodded again, not looking at him. He realized that he was being dismissed. "Do you need anything, Miss Granger?" He asked coldly, not moving.  
  
She frowned for a moment as she thought. "No. I don't think so," she said flatly.  
  
He got up. "Fine. I'll be on my way. Good night, Miss Granger," he said, with a nod.  
  
How did he manage to make my name sound like an insult, she wondered? She didn't bother replying. She heard the door click as he went out.  
  
"And as for my hating you Miss Granger, of course I don't. I never have," Hermione said sarcastically to the empty room.  
  
* * *  
  
Snape hurried back to his private dungeon rooms, his face hot. Had that girl just provoked an unmistakable sexual response in him? Why now, after so long? Why her, of all women? He cursed roundly under his breath. How the hell was he going to get through the next few months?  
  
He stalked through to his private bathroom, stripped off and sank into the hot water in his obsidian tub. He scrubbed himself with some scentless soap and reflected that maybe an ice cold bath would have been more effective right at that moment. He groaned and sank under the water to wet his hair which he proceeded to scour with a shampoo that smelled of incense.  
  
He sat there a long time, hoping his physically present problem would go away. It didn't. He sighed and got out, drying himself with a drying charm. He examined his body. It wasn't much really. Tall and lanky with lean muscles and not an ounce of fat. His bones were too prominent, even in his face. He had a small amount of fine, dark hair on his chest, and lower arms and legs but otherwise was quite smooth skinned and pale. Very pale. His skin was the unhealthy blue white of skimmed milk except for his face which had a sallow tinge.  
  
Hurriedly he pulled on his black cotton pajama bottoms and went to find his bed. Tonight, he was going to be smart. He took a sleeping potion. 


	8. Chapter Seven

A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story. I really appreciate the time you reviewers take to leave your comments. Big hugs to you all - because of you, I know I will finish this story (I'm nearly finished writing it, actually). Please let me know what you think as the story progresses (especially any technical errors - thanks to those of you who already have let me know of a couple, it's much appreciated).  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
"Who hath sent out the wild [horse] free? or who hath loosed the bands of the wild [horse]?" Job 39:5  
  
It didn't take Hermione long to find out her animagus form once she put her mind to it. Once she was over the worst of the shock from her parent's death she remembered that she still hadn't reported back to Snape on her animagus form, and knowing him he'd fail her on that alone regardless of the fact that her parents had died in the interim and she was now his ward. "Greasy bastard," she muttered as she headed down to the restricted section of the library one night, having borrowed Harry's cloak.  
  
She was lucky and found a helpful book almost at once. Strange Beasts and Their Habits gave her clues for new patterns to look for. This led her to another book, Unusual Animagus that expanded on the new knowledge she was gaining. Mysterious Potions and Their Properties showed her a far greater range of reactions to the potion than they had in their set books. Slowly the pieces came together. She figured out early on that it was a magical creature by the delicate fluctuations in colour in the pattern. She learnt it was a dark creature from Unusual Animagus. It was obviously a rare creature because of the uncommonness of the pattern's shape and texture. Finally around 3pm, she had it.  
  
She spent the next 3 hours researching the creatures but there was precious little written about their natures or habits. She found herself frustrated and exhausted by dawn. She looked up one more book, hastily scribbled down something on a parchment and went back to her room.  
  
Later that morning and still using the cloak, Hermione left Hogwarts grounds and went into Hogsmeade. From a fireplace in the Three Broomsticks she used floo powder to go to Knockturn Alley. She knew full well that if she used floo in Hogwarts itself, the knowledge would get to Dumbledore and she would be in trouble.  
  
She kept her cloak on until she came to the store she wanted. Fortunately it was on the main thoroughfare and easy to find. Once inside, she handed a list of ingredients to the hag behind the counter. The hag looked at her suspiciously but quickly assembled the items for Hermione. None of them were illegal but some were hard to come by. Knockturn Alley was one place you could be guaranteed to get almost anything immediately.  
  
She paid for her purchases and pulled on her cloak again once outside. Quickly she made her way to the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley to take herself back to Hogsmeade via Floo. It had been surprisingly easy.  
  
* * *  
  
In Snape's dungeon rooms, a black owl landed on Snape's bench. Snape untied the message. It was from one of his informers. What the hell had Hermione been doing in Knockturn Alley purchasing materials? None of Hogwarts students should be there, let alone his grieving ward. Snape frowned darkly. She was acting suspiciously but he didn't want to cause her any trouble by telling Dumbledore. After all, she had done nothing but purchase a few ingredients and none of them illegal from the report. Unfortunately the particular ingredients she'd bought, whilst unusual in themselves - could be put to use in any number of potions so he was unable to guess her intent from the list the owl had brought him.  
  
He put the parchment to one side and went back to his potion. He'd just have to keep an eye on her.  
  
* * *  
  
Late that night Hermione set up her cauldron in the one place she knew she couldn't be disturbed, her bathroom. She conjured a fire and pulled out her ingredients. She had prepared them earlier in the day using her personal instruments that her parents had given her in a set years ago.  
  
Hermione felt ready to burst out of her skin. If she could transform into her animagus, she could run free in the Dark Forest for the night. Nothing sounded more wonderful than being something else for a while. Besides, she was curious and wanted to see if she could do it.  
  
Carefully she brewed the potion. It turned black, red and gold in streaks. She frowned. That was curious. She carefully bottled it in a flask and slipped on a black cloak. She slunk through the school grounds in the shadows, avoiding the noise and light coming from the inhabited areas. Once inside the perimeters of the forest, Hermione quickly drank the potion and concentrated on every transformation skill she had.  
  
It was a strange experience because she expected to feel something physical but she never did. All of a sudden she felt strong, and wanted to run and run. It took her awhile to realize she was running on all fours faster than she ever could have run in human form. She could jump so high and so far it was almost like flying. Her muscles rejoiced in their own power. She felt better than she ever had in her life. Her eyesight was keener and her sense of smell more sensitive. The forest sped by her as she ran and she only got fleeting impressions. Shadows of huge ancient trees; the smell of running water; deep shadows cloaked by fog; distant fires of forest dwelling creatures showing like vague spots of brightness against a deep velvet sky, her own hooves thudding on the moss and leaf strewn forest floor. It was a foretaste of heaven.  
  
Eventually she stopped in a clearing. She had no idea where she was nor did she care. She pawed the ground and lifted her head to smell the cold, night air.  
  
She caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of one eye. She swung her head around to see a black shape with a pale face. Snape? What was he doing in the Dark Forest close to midnight? She felt no fear; as a beast, the concerns of a schoolgirl where as far away from her as the earth from the sun. They regarded each other silently - the pale man obviously apprehensive and the beast completely calm.  
  
Snape had come into the forest to gather toadstools from fairy rings for a new potion he was developing. He was familiar with the Dark Forest and its inhabitants knew him well. They left him alone, recognizing a soul already tormented beyond their means and not at all afraid of death having little to live for.  
  
Snape honestly felt as though he couldn't trust the evidence of his own eyes. To see a black unicorn was so extremely rare that these creatures where considered more myth and legend than fact. Very few people in history ever saw these creatures and there was little reliable information about them. He examined it carefully. It was no larger than a racehorse and just as gracile. It's coat was blue black and picked up the sheen of the moonlight. It's horn shone gold, and its eyes were a firey molten mixture of gold and red. Unlike the white unicorn, its expression was not innocent but rather poignant, zealous, potent and untamed at the same time.  
  
Why wasn't it running away from him too, he wondered? Unicorns couldn't bear anything that was not pure and any human being less pure than himself Snape couldn't imagine. The unicorn just stood there looking at him with an expression that seemed familiar although alien too. He felt paralysed by it's stare and warmed by it too, like that time that Hermione had been staring at him in class. Hermione. Snape had a sudden leap of logic and came up with the right answer. Pieces suddenly fell into place - Hermione's strange animagus pattern, her visit to Knockturn Alley that day, the unicorn not running away, the eerie feeling of familiarity in the beast's gaze. He knew he was looking at his ward although one part of him could hardly believe it possible.  
  
"Hermione?" he said softly, his unusually deep voice rasping in the cold night air. A fire lit in the creatures eyes at the sound of his voice. It startled and pawed the ground again. "Hermione, if that's you please transform back," he continued softly and cautiously. The animal reared and took off. "Damn it!" Snape cursed, furiously.  
  
Hermione ran and ran and ran. She didn't want to hear her human name or a voice connected with her human life. Tonight she was free and would run.  
  
* * *  
  
Snape went straight back to the school and Hermione's room determined to find out if he was right. He knocked on her door. "Hermione, if you're in there please open the door." No response. He tried again. Still no response. "Hermione, I'm coming in." He cautiously opened the door after undoing the locking charm she had put on the door. He really did not want to see her stark naked or snogging some other 7th year, or worse - both at the same time. The room was empty. He did a quick location spell over Hogwarts. She was definitely no-where on the grounds or in the castle. He sat down slowly on her bed. Was it possible? Had she really become a unicorn? Had she learnt to do it so quickly?  
  
He cautiously entered her bathroom after knocking several times. Empty again except for the cauldron and equipment. He looked at the parchment, then snatched it up. The potion to allow transformation to an animagus the first time! That confirmed it to Snape. He did a location spell over the Dark Forest. He got something only faintly of Hermione which only confirmed her current status in animal form. Snape started cursing slowly and methodically as he made his way to Dumbledore's office.  
  
* * *  
  
"A black unicorn, you say?" the old wizard asked curiously.  
  
Snape paced before the fire. "I'm almost positive," he confirmed and outlined the evidence to the Head Master.  
  
"A magical creature is rare but a black unicorn. They are only seen maybe once in a few hundred years," Dumbledore shrugged.  
  
"What does it mean?" Snape demanded, his voice a hiss.  
  
"Well, your animagus is a raven. We know they are magical creatures too although few suspect it. It looks like you and Miss Granger have something in common," Dumbledore observed. Dumbledore could see Snape didn't like that. "Black unicorns are odd creatures. Seen so seldom they are treated as myth. They are unicorns that have been tainted by exposure to evil as foals. They are cursed creatures of a sort, often seeking out evil - not to join with it but to absorb it into itself in an effort to heal it." Dumbledore explained.  
  
"Is that linked with Hermione's destiny in some way?" Snape asked, subdued.  
  
"It could be," Dumbledore replied. Snape had his back to him and didn't see the speculative look in the white-haired wizard's eyes as he examined the Potions Master.  
  
"So, we do nothing but wait and watch?" Snape asked quietly.  
  
"Exactly," Dumbledore replied. "You know, their gift for absorbing evil into themselves could be immensely useful for any fight against a great foe," he continued mildly.  
  
Snape whirled around and looked at his Head Master with narrowed eyes under furrowed brows. "What do you mean?" He demanded harshly.  
  
"If a black unicorn can and does absorb evil into itself, she could be a significant weapon against Voldemort. Of course, it is at great personal cost to the unicorn itself" Dumbledore observed thoughtfully.  
  
Snape's frown grew darker. "Then she can't be exposed to Voldemort in any form. Her very nature in her animagus form would pose a huge threat to her well-being. As her guardian, I won't allow it!" He added roughly, black eyes blazing.  
  
"Yes, yes Severus. No one would expect that of the child." Dumbledore said comfortingly. Snape relaxed slightly. "You realize that if she discovers the secret of her own nature she may choose to make that sacrifice for the sake of those that she loves and once she is no longer your ward, you could not prevent it." Dumbledore added warningly.  
  
Snape looked away, tension written on every line of his body. "Perhaps not but I could do my damnest to talk her out of it," he growled, still pacing.  
  
"You would do it, Severus. I know you would." Dumbledore said pointedly.  
  
"I don't have as much to lose as Hermione. She's still a child with her whole life ahead of her and many friends who love her. She may out-live the war and she may have the opportunity to have a family of her own one day. She shouldn't sacrifice that when there are other ways of fighting Voldemort and others better suited to laying down their lives for the cause," Snape argued vehemently.  
  
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at Snape's back. He had no intention of allowing Hermione to sacrifice herself in any way in the fight against Voldemort, especially when she was still so young. Still, it was interesting to observe his Potions Master ardently fighting for a student that he had professed such dislike for only a few days ago. This kind of responsibility was proving very good for Severus Snape.  
  
"I quite agree, Severus" Dumbledore said crisply. Snape's black eyes examined the Head Master intently and he calmed down when he realized that Dumbledore meant what he said. "Now Severus, how about some nice brandy before you head back to your room?" Snape demurred and stalked back down to his rooms, his face intense with a worry he had never had before - the personal responsibility for a young woman. 


	9. Chapter Eight

Okay, fair warnin - there is a very mild sexual reference towards the end of this chapter. Not exactly squicky and still in the PG13 category. Once again, thank you to all the very kind people who have taken the time to review. You're the best and just so you know, I'm very close to finishing the story now.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things." 1 Corinthians 13:10  
  
Once Hermione had transformed back in the very early hours of the morning, she crept back up to her room in Hogwarts in a daze. Her mind was still running free in the cold night air of the Dark Forest and she still didn't feel quite human. She had a swim in the bath after tidying away her potion making equipment and went to sleep after taking some potion. That night she dreamt of the shadows of trees falling under sharp, ebony hooves.  
  
The next day, she refused to go down at all. She was in no place to expose herself to more rumours. Let bloody Ron and Harry find her if they were worried. They wouldn't be anyway - too wrapped up in their girlfriends, she thought irritably. Hermione snuck down to the library while everyone was at breakfast and got some books which she took up to her room. She did the same thing the next few days until graduation.  
  
Hermione participated in the graduation ceremony fighting back tears. Her parents would have been here taking a million pictures if they'd still been alive. There was no point getting pictures of this day now. Who would ever care to look at the damn things now? She tried very hard not to wallow in self-pity but it was hard. Right after graduation lunch they were heading for the train. She was about to follow Ron and Harry onto the boats when Snape loomed up beside her and took her aside.  
  
"We're going by floo, Miss Granger. We have an appointment with your parents' Muggle lawyer in an hour," he explained in clipped tones, his expression icy cold. Before she could protest, he was leading her away by the shoulder.  
  
"We'll owl you!" Ron and Harry shouted as they saw her being led off. She waved, disheartened. Everything was moving too fast. First her parents, now her school, now daily contact with her friends - all her support bases were being stripped from her. All she had was herself and a coldhearted, miserable bastard to look to now.  
  
I'll just have to be enough, she thought lifting her head. Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw her lift her chin a trifle. When he glanced down at her, he saw the pride and self-possession of a princess of an ancient bloodline on her face. Well done, Miss Granger he thought approvingly. That will get you though this next difficult period of life. As they passed by students leaving the castle, whispers followed them and curious teenagers craned their necks to get a better view. Hermione did not bat an eyelid.  
  
Once they reached Snape's office, he handed her some floo powder. "Your trunks will follow soon after, Miss Granger. In the meantime, we will go to Gringotts which is close to the Muggle lawyer's offices in London," he instructed neutrally.  
  
She threw the powder on the fire and said, "Gringotts". A few seconds later she was stepping out into the marble foyer area of the bank. Snape stepped out seconds behind her.  
  
"This way, Miss Granger." He said formally and led her out of Gringotts, out of Diagon Alley and into the bustle of London. Hermione was in Muggle clothes already, having planned to travel in them. Snape took off his cloak, magically shrunk it and put it in his trouser pocket on the way out of Diagon Alley. He could pass for a Muggle albeit an eccentric one, Hermione thought looking at the distinctive cut of his trousers and the long-sleeved, high-necked dress shirt he wore that had dozens of buttons down the front. He looked like a Goth who was just a little too old to be indulging in sub-culture weirdness.  
  
She followed him until they came to an old, stone building and then up two flights of stairs to a solicitors' reception. They weren't kept waiting long. Soon, a young and rather handsome solicitor showed them to his office. He had dirty blonde hair, a clean-cut handsome face and - as far as Snape was concerned - too many teeth.  
  
The solicitor carefully explained the will to them both, his eyes resting on Hermione rather more than Snape liked. The young man was rather un- nerved by the limpid, unreadable gaze of the young woman and her quick grasp of what he was telling her. "Do you have any questions?" He asked finally.  
  
"Yes," she replied, surprising him by pulling a list out of a pocket in her skirt. She went through the questions with him thoroughly and flustered him a bit when he couldn't answer them all. Snape felt rather relieved that it wasn't him being grilled for once by Hermione's endless questions.  
  
Finally they were ready to go when the young man said out of the blue, "Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Granger?" His arrogant confidence grated on her nerves. He was so sure she'd flirt back.  
  
"What has that got to do with my parent's will?" she asked with a dangerous mildness.  
  
"Er. nothing," he said, his smile fading a few watts. "I just thought we could have coffee sometime," he added hurriedly. She glanced at the wedding photo on his desk, to the plain gold band on his wedding ring finger. "Oh, that's my sister's wedding," he explained with a grin.  
  
"Do you keep that photo on your desk and wear a ring on your wedding ring finger to scare off predatory female clients?" She asked coolly. He didn't answer but his cheeks stained an unpleasant red. "Well, I don't know why you bother," she finally added as the silence stretched. "Good- bye." With that she sailed out of the office with Snape close on her heels. If it had been in Snape to grin, he would have been grinning. He had been about to point out that dating female clients was unethical and that she was still a minor but Hermione had been so much more effective. and humiliating! Her performance had completely made his day. He'd hated the way that young sap's watery blue eyes had lingered on her face, he hated his false smile and his arrogance. Snape had wanted to thump him or better yet, hex him.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione's house had been put on the floo network temporarily as they went straight there after stopping in Diagon Alley for a few minor purchases.  
  
Her home already felt different to her, Hermione realized as soon as she stopped out of the fireplace. It was empty and silent and echoing. Without the human spirits that had animated it, it was merely a shell. Already she felt herself disconnecting from it. The sooner she sorted through everything and put the house on the market, the better.  
  
Her parents being dentists and well off meant their house was huge. It backed onto a rural estate with lovely views. It was two storey and brick, modern and trendy with lots of glass and chrome. Hermione had never liked it. She preferred old-fashioned architecture.  
  
Her trunk was already near the fireplace with Crookshank's cage on top. He mewed when he saw her. She let him out immediately. In the meantime, Snape was seeing the interior of a Muggle home for he first time. He wasn't particularly impressed. His familiar sneer sat on his countenance. He frankly thought it was ugly and without character or comfort.  
  
"Would you like upstairs or downstairs?" Hermione asked quietly, petting Crookshanks.  
  
"Downstairs," he replied immediately. If he couldn't have dungeons then he'd at least have ground level. He preferred shadows to hide in.  
  
"I need to go shopping for supplies. I think it's best if we only use magic for emergencies. We do have close neighbours here," she continued in the same tone. Snape's mouth tightened in annoyance but she was right. He nodded. "I'll show you to your rooms," she said and led the way downstairs. He had a spacious bedroom with an ensuite, and a large sitting room with comfortable sofas and a library.  
  
Snape was satisfied but obviously unimpressed with Muggle living standards. "I have some business I need to attempt this afternoon so I won't be back until tonight," he said curtly, noting the fireplace in the sitting room.  
  
"Yes, Sir." Hermione said expressionlessly. "If you're not back for dinner, I'll leave some out," she added considerately.  
  
"Don't bother. I can take care of myself," he snapped.  
  
Hermione felt hurt but then felt annoyed at herself. She knew Snape was an arsehole so why was she hurt by his ungraciousness? "Fine," she said shortly and headed out to the garage. The keys to one of her parent's cars (the other family car having been written off in the crash that killed them) was in the ignition. She had her learner's permit and could drive well. She could take her test now with her 18th birthday so close and intended to do so over the next few weeks.  
  
She went to the local supermarket and bought some groceries. Money was one thing she'd probably never have to worry about again from what her solicitor told her. She had no idea what Snape liked and cared even less. Something maternal in her made her want to feed him up a bit and get him healthy, however. It was a weird urge and one she couldn't fight. She bought more red meat then she would have for herself and lots of fattening things like rice and potatoes to feed him up. It embarrassed her - this maternal feeling. It was so obviously misguided. Snape would despise her if he knew about it.  
  
Hermione spent the afternoon cleaning and preparing his rooms, and cleaning out her parent's fridge of the green fuzzy things it was growing. It felt good to scrub and dust and polish. It was an occupation that allowed her mind to be numb. She made herself cup-a-soup for dinner as it was still hard to find an appetite and fell exhausted into bed at 10pm. She didn't hear Snape come in at 2am.  
  
Snape had some last minute Hogwarts business to clear up before leaving the place for nearly two months. He had found a parchment from Hermione in his personal pidgeon hole outside his office where students could leave their assignments. She must have left it there the previous night as he hadn't checked it since then. The parchment had contained 6 words.  
  
My animagus is a black unicorn.  
  
Trust Hermione not to allow even one assignment to slip by her, he thought sourly. Well her grade for Potions was good anyway but he could finally award her the final mark for the semester. It would be around 98%. The next closest was a Ravenclaw with 95%.  
  
Her parchment had given him chills. He had known himself to be right but somehow seeing it in black and white in Hermione's handwriting was the final confirmation. There was no longer any room for doubt. He attached the note to his black owl's leg and sent it up to Dumbledore with a hastily scribbled note from himself at the bottom.  
  
Final confirmation.  
  
He came back to Hermione's house to find fresh sheets on his bed; a lemon fresh smelling ensuite with new soap, bath gel, shampoo, shaving cream, razors, aftershave and other toiletries there; a newly cleaned sitting room that had been aired and fresh towels for him to use on the end of his bed. He eyed all this with a strange expression, half disbelief and half confusion. Why would the child do all this for him? She knew he could have done it for himself. With a frown, he went to his trunk he'd bought with him and began unpacking.  
  
The next morning it took a few minutes for Snape to figure out what the toothbrush and toothpaste were for. In fact, he had to read the containers. "Colgate Whitening", it read. What on earth did that mean, he wondered? He'd always cleaned his teeth magically and it never would have occurred to him to whiten his teeth as well for appearance sake. He found doing things the Muggle way tedious.  
  
That day, Hermione insisted on taking him shopping for clothes. "You can't wear those wizarding clothes here. They look eccentric," Hermion explained.  
  
As it was, they got a lot of strange looks initially. She made him change into some of his new purchases in the shopping center men's room. When he came out in crisp new jeans and a t-shirt with a flannelette shirt over the top, Hermione hardly recognized him. "You look so much more relaxed," she observed. He scowled which completely ruined the effect. "Your taste in clothes is totally lower middle class," Hermione commented as they looked through racks.  
  
"I don't care as long as I'm comfortable," he drawled coldly. "Besides, it's only for a short time and I don't need to impress Muggles."  
  
"Hmmmm. You still need good clothes for special occasions," she insisted and made him try on tailored slacks and shirts. Fortunately Snape was decisive and a quick study. He had a reasonable wardrobe inside of two hours. Hermione had enjoyed seeing Snape struggle a bit with the Muggle money he'd changed at Gringotts as they'd passed through the day before. She wasn't used to seeing him be unsure of anything. It made her feel very smug.  
  
The rest of the day Hermione spent going through her parent's bedroom, sorting clothes to be thrown out and clothes to go to charity.  
  
At breakfast and lunch, Hermione had cooked a nutritious meal hoping to tempt Snape's appetite and build his health up a bit. He'd looked suspiciously at the freshly squeezed vegetable juice but had drunk it and he'd eaten the high protein meals without complaint. In fact, Hermione got the impression he'd eat anything put in front of him and barely notice it. She smiled to herself. This was going to be easier than she'd thought.  
  
They spoke little over the first two weeks. Hermione still felt numb and had a lot to sort out regarding her parent's possessions. As her mother had been a pack rat, it was a long process.  
  
Snape was bored but stayed out of her way. He had no desire to deal with the emotional fall out of a grieving teen-ager. He felt ill-equipped to do so. He occupied himself trying to get the gardens and lawns tidied up. She had mentioned selling the house and the garden was neglected. Obviously neither parent had had time to deal with it. Usually he wouldn't have even contemplated physical labour but he felt energetic and restless, and tidying up the garden was a good outlet. Other than that, he took long walks around the rural neighbourhood and read the Muggle books in their library which were surprisingly good, he thought.  
  
One thing that bothered Snape about Hermione was that he'd never seen or heard her cry. He was sure it was unhealthy to lose your parents and not cry but she seemed oddly calm. Not that he wanted to deal with tears but the silence was un-nerving.  
  
After the third week, Dumbledore owled him for a report. He decided to visit Dumbledore by floo that night. In the meantime he did his washing and ironing, disgusted at how long it took to do things the Muggle way. Hermione had carefully explained how to use all the household labour saving devices in his first week there. He could use a washing machine, dryer, dishwasher, iron, microwave, oven, stove, vacuum cleaner, tv, dvd and stereo inside the first two days. Little things like shaving and combing his hair manually stumped him at first. He cut himself to bits the first few times he shaved. The comb's use flummoxed him for three full days.  
  
Muggle remedies were weird too, he decided. Using little pills to take away headaches rather than charms or potions. Leaving cuts open to heal slowly rather than using a skin closing charm. Even using towels to dry himself was odd. Every few days he had to wash his clothes in water(!) then press them flat using a hot piece of metal. It was all ingenious but so time-consuming! No wonder Muggles were backward, Snape mused. They were too busy doing tedious chores to study and discover things.  
  
Late that evening he stepped out of Dumbledore's office fireplace. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily as he examined his Potions Master. His hair was as silky as a raven's wing; all signs of grease gone. The sallow tinge to his face was nearly gone; his face and body had filled out to being merely lean rather than thin; his cheekbones held a touch of healthy colour; his skin was now merely pale rather than blue white and his teeth were now closer to white than yellow. "Well, well. What a change Severus," Dumbledore observed.  
  
Snape didn't understand. "Yes, I don't care for Muggle clothes myself," he commented uncomfortably.  
  
"No, no Severus. Not your clothes - you!" Dumbledore said smugly. He pulled Snape over to a gilt mirror hanging over the mantle and Snape scowled into it. He got no pleasure from looking at himself and seldom did. Dumbledore muttered something and gestured, and an image of Snape on the day he'd left Hogwarts with Hermione appeared. The difference was unmistakable. Snape blinked. He looked like himself but he didn't. He stared.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, what is young Hermione doing to you?" He said insinuatingly.  
  
"Nothing!" Snape almost snarled, looking startled and horrified. "What do you mean?" He added suspiciously.  
  
"Well, look at you! You look so healthy and well, Severus. She must be taking good care of you," Dumbledore said mildly going back to his desk.  
  
"I'm taking care of myself!" Snape snapped irritably, turning away from the mirror and pacing the room.  
  
"Sit down, Severus," Dumbledore protested, watching him. Snape stalked to a chair and threw himself moodily into it. "The changes you see are due mainly to you not standing over cauldrons emitting noxious fumes nearly 24 hours a day. Fresh air, sunshine, exercise and regular meals have wrought the transformation; all of which are a change for you," Dumbledore added pointedly. Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Also, a break from the constant stress of spying and Voldemort's constant torture has helped too," Dumbledore added. Seeing a pretty face every day doesn't hurt either, Dumbledore added mentally but wisely didn't say so.  
  
"Do you think my potion making has ruined my health?" Snape asked, as the thought occurred to him for the first time.  
  
"That's a large part of it. Being a workaholic and constantly stressed did the rest," the white haired man replied. "Think of all the poisons you use. You breathe them in, you absorb them through your skin when you handle them. You test some of them on yourself. It wouldn't harm someone using them intermittently but you expose yourself to them around the clock usually."  
  
Snape said nothing for awhile, obviously absorbing this new insight. "Is this why you wanted to see me?" He finally asked.  
  
"No, I wanted a report on Hermione. How is our brilliant young lady?" He asked kindly.  
  
Snape shrugged. "She seems fine. Very calm and organized."  
  
"That doesn't strike you as odd?" Dumbledore probed.  
  
"Very but I don't know what I can do about it," Snape replied matter-of- factly, leaning forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees.  
  
"Maybe persuade her to talk to you about it?" The older man suggested.  
  
Snape stared at him. "I don't know how to do that," he hissed, withdrawing back into his chair suddenly.  
  
"You can only try. If you don't succeed at first, she may open up over time." Dumbledore pressed.  
  
"She won't want to confide in me. She doesn't like me!" Snape reasoned, his voice cold.  
  
"Do you like her?" Dumbledore asked dryly.  
  
Snape shrugged again. "She's a child and one of Potter's friends. To be honest, I only know her as a student, not as a person. And no, I don't like her."  
  
"Time to change that. She's your ward now. She needs to be able to trust you," Dumbledore said sternly.  
  
And when I don't guard my thoughts, she gives me a massive hard-on, Snape added in his thoughts. I don't think Dumbledore wants me to get to know her that way.  
  
"I'll try," Snape said non-commitally.  
  
"I want a report of her mental and emotional state in a week," Dumbledore said firmly.  
  
Snape groaned inwardly. 


	10. Chapter Nine

Okay, this chapter is why I originally made this fic NC-17. The language is really bad, so you've been given fair warning! Also, there is a more explicit sexual scene at the end but it's very short and pretty mild so I won't up the rating yet. Please don't bother flaming me about the language - you now know it's there, okay?  
  
.Chapter Nine "all my desire is before thee; and my groaning is not hid from thee." Psalm 38:9  
  
It was around 1am when Snape got back. As he stepped out of his sitting room fireplace he heard strange thumping noises from upstairs, like something was falling or being thrown. He kicked off his boots and crept noiselessly up the stairs. A light was on in one of the bedrooms down the hall. As he got closer he heard odd inchoate sounds. He peered round the door to find Hermione in a passion. She was throwing books around her room, her face was red and her eyes were wet. She looked like demon incarnate.  
  
She caught a glimpse of him. "Get out! Just get out!" He ducked as a book came whizzing his way. He took a step into the room. "Are you fucking deaf? I said to get out! Just go away! Why are you even here, you useless piece of shit?" Another book came whizzing his way. It might have been funny but for the truly dangerous rage on her face. This was not a tantrum - she wanted to do real damage. He stood transfixed by how weird her eyes looked. He thought her eyes were brown but he now realized they weren't; they were a very dark iron grey. In her passion, they blazed almost silver, reflecting light eerily like a cat. It unsettled him somewhat.  
  
"Hermione, calm down!" he ordered firmly. He realized that was the wrong approach when a volley of CDs came his way.  
  
"Fuck off, you useless son of a bitch!" She screamed.  
  
How does she know my mother was a bitch, he wondered inconsequentially? "Hermione," he said gently, finally twigging that his best approach was to be calm and reasonable. "What is wrong? Talk to me." He dodged another book.  
  
"I don't want to talk to you. I want you to go away!" She yelled.  
  
That would suit me too, he thought annoyed. He stood his ground, his hands on his hips and his expression unimpressed. She fumed and kicked a few pieces of furniture. When he still wouldn't go away, she curled up miserably on her bed.  
  
Gingerly, he sat down beside her. "Now, tell me what brought all of this on," he asked calmly. Really, she could vie with Voldemort for sheer, terrifying rage, he thought. Voldemort had trained him well to stay calm and hold his ground in the face of volcanic rage. She hid her face in her up-drawn knees. "You're being childish," he said quietly. Bad move.  
  
"I am fucking not, arsehole!" She exploded again. "Didn't I tell you to go away?"  
  
He decided to take a different tack. "I know you're angry. Can't you tell me why?" He said deliberately neutrally.  
  
"What the fuck do you care?" She demanded fiercely.  
  
His body stiffened. He wanted to tell her not to use that word but he wisely bit his tongue. "I'm your guardian. It's my responsibility to care," he said with barely controlled patience. Another bad move.  
  
"Take your fucking responsibility and shove it up your arse!" She snarled. He compressed his lips and back tracked.  
  
"I do care, Hermione." He said evenly and wondered if it was true.  
  
"You do fucking not! Don't lie to me! I'm not stupid. Now, just go! Please. Leave me alone," she said bitterly. Suddenly her eyes filled and over-flowed.  
  
"No, I'm not going while you're in a state like this." He replied with false calm. He held his breath. The look in her eyes was like a blow to the gut all of a sudden. The misery and the searing vulnerability took his breath away. He'd never seen her vulnerable or weak or not in control. She'd always met his challenges in the classroom with defiance, she'd taken his sneers with an equal measure of contempt and his cruelty with the indifference of someone who cared nothing for him. It had hurt his pride and made him hate her. He couldn't break her but she was broken now - by life and cruel fate.  
  
"Won't you tell me what's wrong?" he almost whispered.  
  
She couldn't, she was crying too hard. She reached out a hand and grabbed some tissues. The bed was littered with them by the time she'd cried herself out. A different person would have put their arms around her but Snape didn't dare. She wouldn't want him touching her, no-one wanted him to touch them. He found he couldn't bear to risk the rejection.  
  
"Some" ::sniff:: "great" ::sniff:: "guardian" ::choke:: "you are", she said finally.  
  
"Why?" he asked, his mouth twisting and feeling rather offended.  
  
"You're not much use, are you?" She blew her nose (again).  
  
"In what way?" he inquired coldly, rather annoyed.  
  
"Well, you're not very comforting," she sniveled.  
  
"Sorry. I don't have any practise," he apologized snappily.  
  
"I suppose Death Eaters are used to killing people not comforting the grieving relatives," she said smartly, stung into attack by his surliness.  
  
He sucked in his breath. "Damn Potter!" he cursed viciously.  
  
"What?" She demanded, confused.  
  
"How dare he discuss my past with everyone," Snape snarled. He got up from the bed to pace. Suddenly it hurt that she knew. He wanted to hide somewhere and protect himself, particularly from her.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Harry only told Ron and me."  
  
"That's quite enough," Snape said broodingly.  
  
"We won't tell anyone. We haven't told anyone," she pointed out.  
  
Snape looked at her again. She still looked pathetic. A swollen, red nose did not add to her attractions, he mused. He sat on the bed again. "What can I do to comfort you?" He asked sounding stilted, surprising both himself and her.  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know. My parents were hopeless at it too. In fact, you're better at it than they were," she observed, still sniffing.  
  
"What did they do when you were crying?" He asked, trying to sound gentle and hoping for a hint.  
  
"They walked off and ignored me," she said directly and without self-pity.  
  
That news was like a slap on the face to Snape. It sounded like his parents. He frowned. "What did Harry or Ron do?" he tried again, still frowning.  
  
"They hardly ever saw me cry. When they did, they hugged me," Hermione stated rather baldly.  
  
Snape froze. "Do. do you want me. to. to. er. hug you?" He finally managed to say.  
  
She glared at him. "Well, what do you think?" She snapped. I can do this, Snape told himself and took a deep breath. I can hug like a Gryffindor if I try really hard. Gingerly he put one arm around her and held her nearly a full arm's length away. "So, what? Do I smell?" she asked sharply, glaring at him out of red-rimmed eyes.  
  
"Er. no." Snape said and carefully pulled her slightly closer.  
  
She sighed heavily. "If that's the best you can do, you can just leave!"  
  
He got aggravated. He was trying for goodness sake! "Well, you show me how and then I will," he said, sounding cranky. Bad move - just another in a long list that evening. She put both her arms around his slim middle and snuggled against him. He held his breath. He was simply unused to so much body contact. She sighed and pulled away. "Did I do something wrong?" He asked anxiously.  
  
"What? You mean apart from turn into a piece of granite?" She said sarcastically. She pulled her knees up to her chest again.  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm just not used to." he stumbled awkwardly, feeling a bit desperate and resenting it at the same time.  
  
"Just go away, okay? My parents are dead. I don't need them resurrected in my guardian," she said bitterly.  
  
He looked at her carefully, his dark, deep-set eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he said quietly.  
  
"I mean, I have enough rejection issues from them. I don't need them to be reinforced by you!" She said, concise in her anger.  
  
"I'm not rejecting you, Hermione. It's just. It's just." How the hell did he explain, he wondered? She gave him a jaded look underpinned by a vulnerability that made him ache. Suddenly, something in him snapped. She'd yelled at him, sworn at him, launched missiles at him, broken his heart, railed at him, pronounced him a failure, thrown his past in his face and now this accusation. "Do you want to know why I can't hug you, Hermione?" He asked in a dangerous voice. She just gave him a look and didn't reply. "Stand up," he commanded in his school teacher voice. She sneered. "Stand up!" he hissed furiously and pulled her to her feet by one arm.  
  
They were standing millimeters apart. They could feel the warmth from each other's bodies. She looked up at him defiantly, eyes glittering. He looked down at her like a bird of prey ready to swoop, his eyes hooded. "Do you want a hug?" He whispered cruelly and his long arms snaked around her slender form, pressing her hard against him. He heard her gasp when she felt his erection pressing into the soft flesh of her belly. He bent down and whispered in her ear, "I am your guardian, Hermione but I am also a man."  
  
The soft silk of her hair against his face was driving him mad. Then the unbelievable happened. She pressed herself against him, her curves melting into the hardness of his flesh and wound her arms around his neck. "Is that it?" She whispered back. She pushed her fingers into the silky black hair at the nape of his neck. He couldn't believe how quickly she changed gears.  
  
He lost his head completely in the sheer surprise and deliciousness of the moment. His lips found hers', tentatively at first until he got Hermione's immediate response. It wasn't long before his tongue was teasing her lips to get into her mouth. She made a sound of pure pleasure as she opened her mouth to his kiss.  
  
A cold chill suddenly crept up his spine. This was his ward! He was kissing his ward! Dumbledore would be furious and rightly so. "Hermione, this is wrong," he said urgently against her mouth.  
  
"No, it isn't." She said, nipping at his bottom lip.  
  
He made himself push her away, hating the cold air that suddenly came between them. "I can't!" He said harshly, his face white. "I'm your guardian, for goodness sake!" He risked a look at her face. She was staring at him stonily. It would be so easy, he thought, just to pull her into my arms again and kiss away that look.  
  
"I can't!" He repeated. "I can't kiss you and I can't hug you. I shouldn't touch you in any way," he said desperately, then almost ran from her room.  
  
Hermione watched him go with narrowed eyes and kicked a piece of furniture in frustration. 


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine." Song of Solomon 1:2  
  
Hermione had owled her friends a few days earlier with an invitation for a party. She had suddenly wanted friends around her. Snape's presence made her feel more lonely at times not less lonely; especially now as he was pretending that nothing had happened between them the previous night.  
  
She had told Snape about the party well in advance and had expected him to absent himself but to her surprise, he didn't.  
  
Seamus and Dean arrived first, hand in hand. They had finally got it together in 7th year, much to Hermione's relief. Their relationship had gotten off to a slow start. She had hated seeing her two friends circling each other for so long and the tension had nearly killed them all. They both hugged Hermione enthusiastically and exclaimed over her home as soon as they arrived.  
  
The Weasleys arrived next, Ron and Ginny with the twins. George showed up with his new girlfriend Pandora, a pretty witch who he had met through their joke shop. Fred came along too, grinning all over his freckled face. Their mother had sent Hermione some party food which she put with the rest of it. Ron, George and Fred immediately set off to explore the foreign Muggle home while Ginny and Pandora helped Hermione put out the food.  
  
Harry came next in his Chudley Canons practice gear, having come straight from work. He grinned at her and hugged her hard then went over and kissed Ginny soundly. Padma and Lavendar arrived together, looking stunning in their trendy gear and Neville followed closely behind with his girlfriend, Susan Bones. Ron, who had returned from the nether regions of the house by that time made a bee-line for Padma.  
  
The party was in full swing very quickly. Butterbeer, Muggle beer and spirits flowed freely. Fred and George set up bar and made up peculiar cocktails for the girls which Ginny flatly refused to drink claiming that the two had probably hexed them. Hermione felt very relaxed and happy for the first time in weeks.  
  
Close to midnight Padma and Lavendar insisted on playing spin the bottle. Hermione usually refused to play on the grounds that it was childish but she felt childish that night and decided she would join in. As the game was being set up, Snape came upstairs to get something from the kitchen. They all froze as they saw their old Potions Master but blinked when they saw the bare feet, jeans and t-shirt. He stiffened when he realized he was being examined and was going to content himself with a sneer in their general direction when he recognized what they were doing.  
  
A prickle ran along his skin, raising fine dark hairs. He face suddenly became masked and guarded as he glanced at Hermione. He tensed when he realized she was staring right back.  
  
"Why don't you join us, Professor Snape?" Hermione asked, both her tone and her gaze challenging. She had thrown down the gauntlet and Snape knew it. The others watched this development with interest. If Snape backed off, it was obvious he'd have conceded a defeat of some kind. On the other hand, it didn't seem quite right for a former teacher to join in spin the bottle.  
  
He hesitated for a second or two, then padded silently across the carpet on his pale, slender feet. The others observed this with their mouths open. Hermione and Harry budged apart to make room for him. Everyone glanced nervously at each other. Kissing Snape was too strange to contemplate. He was still a nasty Potions Master to them and nothing more.  
  
"I'll play one round," he said smoothly, returning Hermione's challenge with an answering flash of his dark eyes.  
  
Hermione was in a pleasant, Schnapps-induced haze. She watched Seamus kiss Ginny with Harry looking on in amusement, Dean kissed Neville with Seamus rolling his eyes at Neville's nervousness. Padma kissed Harry while Ginny giggled and then Lavendar kissed Ginny while Harry looked on with interest. Hermione spun the bottle lazily, not really caring where it landed as she was too drunk to be bothered who she kissed.  
  
Everyone held their breath when it landed on Snape. Hermione wanted to giggle and she looked at her stern guardian from under her eyelashes. As it was her turn, she had to kiss him. He was too tall for her to simply lean over and kiss so she knelt up and put her hands on his knees, leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips.  
  
Snape was holding his breath and his face had gone a shade paler. He wanted to lean away from her, not because he didn't want to kiss her but because he was afraid to. Of course, he couldn't do that and not give away his panic. She tasted of Butterscotch and it was over too soon.  
  
"That wasn't a real kiss!" Seamus protested, teasing her.  
  
"Yeah, you didn't even try and slip in the tongue," a drunk Ron added, annoyed that he hadn't got a kiss from anyone yet.  
  
Hermione just laughed as she sat down again. Everyone watched expectantly as Snape spun the bottle. It landed on Hermione. More than one person suspected it wasn't an accident. Hermione grinned at Snape in pure malicious amusement.  
  
He leaned forward, his silky dark hair brushing against her face and gently touched his lips to her own. She expected that to be it, he was her guardian and they did have an audience. She was wrong. One strong, long- fingered hand curled around the nape of her neck as the tip of his tongue probed her lips. The minute she parted them, he slipped his tongue into her mouth.  
  
Everyone in the living room grew wide-eyed as the kiss deepened and lengthened beyond what was decent even for spin the bottle. "Geez! Get a room!" Seamus said finally, rolling his eyes at them.  
  
Snape immediately withdrew, his eyes shuttered. "Well, Miss Granger. I've played my one round and it's time to go," he drawled coldly, his dark eyes gleaming in the half light. "I'll leave you children to yourselves," he added, emphasizing the word 'children' rather insultingly.  
  
Hermione felt hurt by the coldness of his tone after the heat of his kiss but she merely flicked him a cool glance as he got up from the circle. For all the passion that had leaped between them, they were still as chilly as the Arctic to each other. No-one noticed his lips move as he left the room and everyone thought it simply odd that the bottle never landed on Hermione again for the rest of the evening.  
  
Once he had gone, Lavendar turned to her with wide eyes. "What was it like kissing Snape?" She asked in a tone of morbid fascination.  
  
"I would say he's a very practiced kisser," Hermione replied cynically.  
  
A few hours later, Hermione saw them off and went to bed. She could still feel Snape's hand on her nape like an imprint. She could still taste him and still feel the roughness of his feint stubble against her face. She couldn't help smiling to herself. It certainly felt good.  
  
In his rooms downstairs, Snape had been lying awake for hours by then. He was curled up on his side in his bed. His face burned every time he remembered the velvety feel of her skin and the incredible softness of her lips, the fall of her heavy hair against his skin. He had overhead his remark about his kiss being 'practised'. Well, next to the callow kisses she would have received from teen-age boys to date in her life, it probably did seem that way. He wondered if anyone else had twigged to the spells he had put on the bottle to allow him to kiss her twice and then ensure no-one else did. A smile tugged at one corner of his lean mouth. He hoped Harry didn't get too frustrated waiting for a turn that would never come. The smile disappeared when he considered it was very unlikely he himself would ever get to kiss her again. He shivered and his expression darkened. A very long night lay before him.  
  
* * *  
  
Snape decided to go back and see Dumbledore the next morning about Hermione's mental state. Maybe he could get some advice on what to do next time he found books and abuse being launched at him by a terrifyingly angry teenage girl. As Hermione was sleeping off the effects of the alcohol from the night before, Snape found it easy to slip out via the fireplace.  
  
Dumbledore seemed pleased to see him. "Back so soon, Severus?" He asked cheerfully.  
  
"Well, I've got a report on her mental state," Snape began sourly. "She's completely mad."  
  
Dumbledore raised his white eyebrows in surprise at this blunt statement. "Oh, I very much doubt that Severus. Hermione doesn't strike me as the type to go mad at any crisis," he disagreed mildly.  
  
"She was throwing books at me, swearing and generally having a fit," Snape snapped. "I had no idea what to do or how to calm her down. I made rather a mess of it," he added resentfully. "I'm not qualified for dealing with hysterical teenagers."  
  
"She was throwing a fit, you say? Well, it's about time, really. She couldn't keep all that emotion bottled up forever. I suspect she's one of those people who would rather be angry than sad," Dumbledore observed with interest. Snape snorted. Dumbledore tried not to smile in amusement but didn't quite manage it. "So, how did you handle it?" He asked curiously.  
  
Snape was silent for a few moments, glowering at the carpet. "Very badly, as I said. Everything I said just made her abuse me all the more," he complained bitterly.  
  
"Ah well, at least she got some of it out of her system," Dumbledore said, completely unconcerned.  
  
"I didn't appreciate the abuse," Snape said stiffly.  
  
Dumbledore examined him closely. "She hurt your feelings, didn't she Severus?" He said keenly. "Try not to take the things she said to heart. People who are upset say things they don't mean," he added comfortingly.  
  
"I have no doubt she meant every word," Snape said coldly. "Still, it's no concern to me what a bratty teenager says in the midst of a passion. I just don't appreciate being treated like a punching bag."  
  
Dumbledore looked closely at his Potion Master's proud, shuttered expression and knew exactly how much it suddenly mattered to Snape what this particular 'bratty teenager' had to say to him. His heart ached for him. Snape was so inadequate at human relationships that caring about anyone hurt him. That was why he preferred not to care for anyone.  
  
"If you feel unable to cope again Severus, let me know and I'll speak to Hermione myself. She needs all the support she can get right now and maybe one adult isn't enough for the time being," he suggested kindly.  
  
Snape nodded but said, "I can cope. I just don't like it."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "I think you are doing a very good job, Severus. She must trust you to a certain extent to allow you to see her so upset. I doubt anyone has ever seen her in a state like that. I doubt she'd show that to even her closest friends," he said reassuringly.  
  
"No, I'm a much better target for her hatred and anger," he said sourly.  
  
"For her grief and confusion," Dumbledore corrected gently. Snape merely sneered and refused to answer. "Don't give up on her yet, Severus. I have a feeling that young Hermione will be a person of great use to the wizarding community once she gets slightly older. This time will be crucial to her development. From what I am hearing tonight, you really are doing an excellent job in a very difficult situation," Dumbledore continued thoughtfully. Snape looked dark but still didn't reply. "Have you had any calls from the Death Eaters lately?" Dumbledore asked, tactfully changing the subject.  
  
"No. They've been quiet. They generally are over the summer. I am expecting a call soon, now that the summer break is nearly over," Snape replied restlessly, throwing himself into a chair.  
  
"Well, you have the perfect excuse not to go. You can say that 'the doddering old fool made you look after one of the students for a few months'," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
"Yes, I'm hoping that will work." Snape said quietly with a sigh.  
  
"If you're broken and bruised from more torture, you won't be able to look after Hermione so you will have to use that excuse Severus," Dumbledore demanded as sternly as he was able.  
  
"Yes," Snape sighed again. "Talking of Miss Granger, I had better go back to the house. She's sleeping off a hangover at the moment, inbetween not talking to me and I should make sure I'm there to be a target for her abuse in case any more is forthcoming," Snape said with a weary and resigned kind of sarcasm.  
  
Dumbledore didn't bother to hide his amused smile. "Quite. Off you go then and keep me informed, Severus." Dumbledore said crisply as he watched the tall, slim professor unfold himself from the seat he had been slouched in.  
  
Snape stepped into the fireplace and was gone in an instant. Dumbledore smiled cheerfully to himself and went to give his phoenix some cake. "Well, it's all going very well Fawkes," he said complacently. The phoenix cocked its head at the Head Master and gave him a cynical look before pecking the offered cake out of his hands. 


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven  
  
"They rewarded me evil for good to the spoiling of my soul."  
  
Psalm 35:12  
  
Snape found the next day very long. Hermione had recovered with the speed of the young from her hang over and was still not talking to him. He was starting to find this childishness rather tedious but he was glad she hadn't demanded an explanation of his behaviour the other night at the party. If she had, he had no idea what he would have said. He barely understood his own behaviour. Why, after telling her that he couldn't touch her because he was her guardian, did he turn around the very next night and kiss her thoroughly? Not only kiss her thoroughly but do so in front of a large audience of very curious ex-students of his? It was absurd. It was crazy. It made no sense at all. Snape was not used to doing things that made no sense. He felt totally off-balance and as though he had suddenly turned into somebody else.  
  
Meanwhile, Hermione was telling herself she didn't care why Snape had kissed her the way he had at the party after seeming to reject her only the night before. The important thing was, that he had and she was quite satisfied with that. It seemed like the perfect revenge to her. To make the man who had pushed her away only the night before, kiss her passionately in front of other people. The mere thought made her smirk with satisfaction. She was not talking to him only because he had subsequently been so cold and it miffed her. Let him be like that, she thought with a mental shrug. She could still feel complacent about the fact he hadn't been so cold when he'd kissed her, not either time.  
  
The day dragged and Snape spent a lot of it either outside in the garden, raking early Autumn leaves or reading Muggle books in his downstairs sitting room. He had discovered Edgar Allen Poe and Bram Stoker which were much to his taste. He had tried to read Jane Austen but had given up as nothing ever seemed to happen in them but conversations and tea parties. Those are witches' books, Snape decided after getting halfway through 'Emma'. He had already read the children's novels as they contained lots of Muggle ideas of magic that were sometimes quite accurate and sometimes quite ridiculous. He thought C S Lewis and Madeleine L'Engle were the most accurate.  
  
His lunch was plonked down in front of him unceremoniously and he was studiously ignored throughout the meal. After lunch, she went to sleep some more and he didn't see her for the rest of the day.  
  
When Hermione woke up late in the afternoon, she felt dangerously restless. She wanted to run but not like a human could. She wanted to feel soft earth and dead leaves under her feet and breathe cold night air. She wanted a star studded sky overhead and the smell of ancient trees. She knew deep within herself what was happening and quickly she took some floo powder to the fireplace. "The Three Broomsticks," she said.  
  
As soon as she got there, Hermione pushed her way through the crowd to the door and out onto the cobbled streets. As twilight fell, she made her way to the Dark Forest. Once again, she felt like she could burst out of her skin. As soon as she reached the perimeter, she began running. It wasn't long before ebony hooves were sparking against the flint stones on the forest floor. She could never quite pick that moment of transformation.  
  
* * * In Snape's rooms downstairs, a black owl tapped at one of the windows. Snape let it in and untied the message. It was from Rosmerta. She had seen Hermione arrive and rapidly depart, heading directly for the Dark Forest. Snape started swearing viciously.  
  
Still swearing, he took a pinch of floo to follow her. Once there, he acknowledged Rosmerta's concerned look with a nod and ducked outside into an alley. Quickly he transformed into his own animagus raven form and flew out into the Dark Forest.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione ran until she was exhausted. After resting for a short time, she'd run again. The landscape blurred around her, the scents subtle and refreshing. She never felt so calm or so alive as in her animagus form. She was queen of this place as a black unicorn. The other creatures kept a respectful distance even as they watched her curiously. She was completely unmolested in this place, it was her domain and she had nothing to prove here.  
  
While resting by a stream in the early hours of the morning, she didn't notice a shiny black bird alight nearby. Swiftly and silently Snape transformed. He stood very still, watching the mesmerising beast. He knew it was Hermione and yet it was something so completely 'other' too. A raven was innocuous. A black unicorn dominated whatever environment it was in by its sheer extraordinary rarity. It provoked fascination.  
  
Suddenly, one molten red and gold eye was fixed on him. The unicorn whinnied and bucked. I guess that means she's still not talking to me, Snape thought wryly. He was pinned by a look of red-eyed anger from the beast that totally paralysed him and as he stood frozen, the unicorn took off again with supernatural speed.  
  
He made a mental note of the fact that black unicorns could paralyse with a glance when provoked. Reluctantly, he transformed back into a raven to try and track her again but he doubted he would find her a second time that night. It had taken hours to find her the first time.  
  
* * *  
  
As dawn began to break Snape flew back to the Three Broomsticks and transformed back just in time to use the pub's fireplace to get back to Hermione's home before it shut.  
  
"She came back through a few hours ago," Rosmerta told Snape, as he dragged his tired body through the door. He merely nodded.  
  
When he got back to her home, he found her fast asleep in her bed. She didn't stir for the entire day.  
  
* * *  
  
It was getting on towards dinner time when the first searing, burning pain hit. He grasped his forearm in a reflex action and fell out of his chair in agony, his mouth open in a silent scream. The pain was unbelievable. It was not usually this bad. He looked at the Dark Mark on his arm. It was burning red. The pain died down slightly and he dragged himself back into the chair. This could go on all night, he knew. Especially if he did not answer which he couldn't while he was here with Hermione. He swore under his breath.  
  
Another blast of pain hit, worse than the first. He moaned under his breath and sweat stood out on his forehead. He had no idea how he would endure the pain if it continued as badly as this. Voldemort was either very angry or the meeting was very urgent or both. Maybe he should go, he considered? He dismissed the idea. Dumbledore had told him not to and he respected Dumbledore enough to follow orders. A third explosion of pain hit and Snape passed out, sliding out of the chair as he lost consciousness.  
  
Not long after, Hermione called down the stairs to say dinner was ready. She had gotten up only an hour before. When she got no response at all, she ventured down stairs to find him. Sometimes he was still out in the garden after dark, tidying up or taking a walk. She found him in the sitting room almost immediately and drew her breath in sharply. Deliberately keeping a cool head, she carefully examined him and noticed the sweat on his forehead but, she noted, he had no fever. She bit her lip. She couldn't see any injury and he was still breathing. She pushed up his sleeve to take his pulse and that was when she saw the Dark Mark burning a bright, vicious red against his skin. She could feel the heat coming off it. She shook her head in anger when she saw the brutal methods of the Death Eaters against their own. Quickly she got up and went to her parents' old room. They had a small safe full of strong medications there that they had not wanted kept on their work premises overnight. She had been given the combination by her parents' solicitor, and quickly and efficiently she took out a disposable needle and a bottle of morphine.  
  
As she went back downstairs she thought about how grateful she was that watching her parents over the years had unconsciously taught her so much about pain management and pain killers. They were dangerous drugs but she knew exactly how much she could administer without causing damage. She also knew how to give an injection correctly.  
  
After closing all the curtains, she used a levitating spell to get Snape to his bed. It was tiring but as it was only a short distance, she could manage it. Carefully she prepared the morphine shot and administered it correctly. Less than 15 minutes later, Snape opened his eyes groggily. He was no longer in pain but he felt very muddled. He squinted at her in the half light. "Hermione?"  
  
"Yes, it's alright. I gave you some morphine to kill the pain. You'll need to sleep it off and hopefully when you wake up the bastards will have left you alone again," she said with blunt anger.  
  
He nodded and as he closed his eyes, he saw her settle back in a chair beside the bed with a book. Obviously, she wasn't going anywhere for a while. He found the thought oddly comforting although usually he would hate someone watching him sleep.  
  
Hermione stayed with him throughout the night, dropping off herself now and then. He wasn't used to the drug so he slept soundly throughout the night. He woke up around 7am and the Dark Mark had turned black once more and was no longer burning. When he woke up, Hermione gave him lots of water and waited while he drank it. When he'd finished, she asked "How often does this happen?"  
  
Snape shrugged. "It's unpredictable. Sometimes more than once a week, sometimes we'll go for months without a meeting."  
  
"Does it usually hurt so much that you pass out?" She asked with an angry frown.  
  
"No but it's generally bad enough. I actually half-considered going tonight because it was abnormally bad. I suspect that the meeting was on an urgent topic or that Voldemort was angry about something. He gets spiteful when he's angry," Snape explained.  
  
"I bet," Hermione said sarcastically with a sneer. "What do you do at these meetings?" She added curiously.  
  
Snape didn't reply immediately and his eyes become hooded as one restless hand picked at the bedspread. "Voldemort usually talks at us for awhile - just propaganda. Pretty much the same things I grew up hearing about mudbloods. Then he goes on about various strategies the Death Eaters are using against them and after that we all report on our particular assignments. People who have been successful are rewarded, those who have failed are punished. By that time, it's usually early morning and we need to leave."  
  
Hermione nodded. It was pretty much what she would have expected. "Is there still an inner circle?" She asked.  
  
"Yes but it's much smaller now, of course." Snape replied, still not looking at her.  
  
"Are you part of it?" She asked directly.  
  
He glanced at her with guarded eyes. "No. Voldemort no longer trusts me after my first defection. I don't go to all the meetings, just the general ones with all the Death Eaters."  
  
"So you don't have access to his most important plans. The long term ones," Hermione mused aloud.  
  
"No. Not yet. I'm working on that at the moment," Snape said restlessly.  
  
"These rewards and punishments," Hermione began. Snape winced. "What are they?" She asked forthrightly. Snape shrugged. "The rewards depend on who wants them. They usually involve the mudblood prisoners. Some of the Death Eaters want prisoners for sexual purposes. Some want them to run experiments on. Some want slaves. Other rewards are financial or to be given some secret knowledge like a rare charm or spell or potion recipe. Sometimes, it's promotion to the inner circle but that's rare," Snape responded in a flat, depressed tone.  
  
"And the punishments?" Hermione persisted gently.  
  
"Nothing very original. Usually it's the cruciatus curse or being given a particularly distasteful or humiliating assignment. Sometimes it's very crude, just a beating by some of the other Death Eaters." Snape sounded resigned, almost bored.  
  
Hermione nodded but said nothing. She wondered how many times he'd suffered the cruciatus curse at Voldemort's hands and how many times he had been beaten by other Death Eaters. As she knew he was unlikely to deliver 'mudbloods' into Voldemort's hands or pass on information truly useful to the Death Eaters' cause anymore, it was likely he was punished frequently for 'failure'.  
  
"Well, if it really was an important meeting then I'm sure you'll hear something about it soon." Hermione observed.  
  
"Without doubt," Snape said heavily. Just at that moment, they heard tapping on the bedroom window. Hermione pulled aside the curtain and saw a magnificent black owl outside. She let it in and it dropped a letter sealed with the Dark Mark beside Snape. He looked at it distastefully and then did a surprising thing. He picked up his wand that had been on his bedside table and said a charm to protect against harm directed at both himself and her. Then he opened the envelope.  
  
"What do they do with those letters that means you need protection to open them?" Hermione demanded indignantly.  
  
"They sometimes put poison in with them or hex them if they want to get rid of one of the ranks," Snape said casually, frowning distractedly at the contents of the letter.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Oh yeah, I can see why people would be rushing to join this little club," she muttered sarcastically.  
  
He sat up suddenly and his frown grew deeper as he read on. "I will have to go to the next meeting," Snape said to himself decisively. Hermione gazed at him silently. "Something big is happening. I need to find out what it is," he added, glancing at her. Hermione nodded. She hoped whenever the next meeting was that he didn't get punished for not going to the last one.  
  
"I'm going to make some breakfast and I think you should eat something. You didn't get dinner last night," she said with mild bossiness.  
  
"Neither did you," Snape observed.  
  
"No and I'm hungry," she said, getting up from the chair and yawning.  
  
"And tired. You'd better get some sleep today," he ordered.  
  
"Yes, I will." She agreed and left to make breakfast. Snape's shuttered black eyes followed her as she left the room. Having her in his bedroom made him nervous. Not of her but of himself. It was perhaps fortunate that the morphine had knocked his system around so much, otherwise his body's response to the intimacy of having her in his room may have given him away - again.  
  
He glanced down at the letter and crumpled it. It disappeared in a small flash of green light. It was the disciplinary letter he had expected for not going to the meeting last night but it contained a curious urgency. Something was afoot. 


	13. Chapter Twelve

Quick note: Many of the canon characters in this story that only play minor roles are based on Clio's interpretation of them in her story, Eight Ways From Sunday which can be found in the Schnoogle section of FAP at www.fictionalley.org. As most of her characters only appear as cameos here (apart from Hermione who is totally different in this story), I don't feel too bad about borrowing them. However, I wanted to acknowledge her influence on my work. (As one of the betas for Eight Ways From Sunday, I guess it was inevitable!) Anyway, please go and take a look at her wonderful story as it's very well written, very hip and packed with canon character romances.  
  
Once again, thank you to my reviewers to date. You're the best.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.  
  
Psalm 61:3  
  
After breakfast, Hermione said she was going to have a sleep. Snape went back downstairs to finish 'Dracula' hoping it would give him some ideas on how to deal with Voldemort. Hermione crept over to the fireplace, threw in some floo powder and whispered, "Hogwarts". A second later she was stepping out into Dumbledore's office.  
  
"Ah, Miss Granger. How nice of you to visit during summer holidays!" Dumbledore said. "I just ordered some hot scones for morning tea so please join me," he said invitingly, indicating a chair. She smiled at her old Head Master, took an offered plate and sat down. "Now, how can I help you today?" He asked kindly, after he'd poured the tea.  
  
"It's Professor Snape, sir." Hermione said, swallowing a bite of her scone. "He was in awful pain last night because of that blasted Dark Mark. They were having a meeting or some such thing and he didn't go but his arm was hurting him so much that he passed out," she explained, distressed.  
  
Dumbledore did a rare thing; he frowned. "He passed out, you say?" Dumbledore clarified. Hermione nodded miserably. "What did you do?" he asked sympathetically.  
  
"Gave him some of the morphine my parents kept in the house rather than at their surgery," Hermione said.  
  
Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Thank you, Hermione. That was very kind and very sensible," Dumbledore said reassuringly. Hermione felt better. She wasn't sure she shouldn't have contacted Dumbledore immediately and let him deal with it but she was glad Dumbledore thought that she'd done the right thing.  
  
"Professor Snape is saying that he needs to go to the next meeting now, sir. He received an owl this morning sealed with a Dark Mark." She shrugged. "I'm sure Professor Snape is going to come and tell you all this himself very shortly."  
  
"Yes, I'm sure he will Miss Granger. You're not telling me anything he won't tell me himself soon enough," the Professor nodded. "Have you discussed your animagus with Professor Snape yet, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked, when Hermione was silent.  
  
She looked up sharply. No, she hadn't. Even more interestingly, Snape had never brought up the subject with her even though he'd seen her both nights in her animagus form and she'd completed her assignment.  
  
"No, sir. I take it that Professor Snape told you about it?" She murmured into her tea.  
  
"Yes, Hermione. Do you understand the nature of the beast that you become?" He asked with concern.  
  
"No sir. There is very little written about them," Hermione said with a sigh, putting down her tea cup.  
  
He smiled gently. "That's because they are so very rare that no-one has ever had the chance to study them but as you now know, they are not just legends but real creatures."  
  
"Are they all animagus?" Hermione asked curiously.  
  
"Oh no. I've never heard of a black unicorn animagus before. Perhaps it has happened but it's never been documented," Dumbledore explained.  
  
"If they are so rare, how do they come about? There can't be enough of them for them to breed normally," Hermione asked analytically.  
  
"They are really normal unicorns that have been exposed to some kind of real evil at a very young age and over a long period as they grow. This taints them and changes their nature," he explained carefully.  
  
"Changes their nature how?" Hermione asked anxiously.  
  
"Rather than been repulsed by evil or impurity the way normal unicorns are, they are attracted to it." Dumbledore said thoughtfully, stirring his tea.  
  
"Attracted to it?" Hermione said, looking revolted.  
  
"Oh, not for its own sake but because it wants to heal the evil." Dumbledore clarified.  
  
"Can it?" Hermione asked intently.  
  
"Oh yes but at great personal sacrifice always," he said sadly.  
  
"They die?" Hermione asked cautiously, unsure of her ground.  
  
"No, they lose their magical abilities." Dumbledore said. "Their horns drop off, their eyes turn black and they are unable to heal any other great evil in the future. They become very similar to an ordinary horse. The only thing they retain is their wisdom."  
  
"That doesn't seem too great a sacrifice," Hermione remarked.  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "My dear, if you are used to being a magical creature it is very hard to become reconciled to being an ordinary one. How would you feel if you lost your natural magical ability and became a Muggle again?" He asked quietly.  
  
"It would be hard," she acknowledged honestly. "But think of the rewards for everybody! Evils like Voldemort could be stopped."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "I knew you'd see it that way as a brave, head strong, impulsive Gryffindor but it is a huge sacrifice."  
  
"Is that what would happen to an animagus black unicorn, do you think?" Hermione asked. "I mean, would I lose all my magical powers and become a Muggle?"  
  
"No, I fear it would be worse my dear. No-one knows for sure but I suspect you would lose your human nature entirely and stay a unicorn forever," Dumbledore said cautiously.  
  
A chill spread over Hermione's body, starting at the nape of her neck and creeping down her spine and out to every extremity. The fine hairs on her arms stood on end. "I'd. I'd never be able to be myself again? I'd just be a black unicorn until I died?" She repeated slowly, her expression horrified.  
  
She thought about it. She could never talk to her friends again because she would have no speech. She could never live with people again, she'd be in the Dark Forest for the rest of her life. She could never study to find out all the things she wanted to know. She could never fall in love, never have familiar things around her, never have a career, never do any of the human things she enjoyed. She felt a bit sick at the thought.  
  
"My dear, you must never contemplate doing this thing." Dumbledore said softly. "Not ever. It's not necessary. Voldemort can be defeated by other methods that would not involve such sacrifice."  
  
"People are dying everyday because of Voldemort," Hermione said bitterly.  
  
"Yes but in some ways, it is easier to die in the fight against evil than to make the kind of sacrifice we're talking about here. Especially when you are still so young and can be of so much use to the wizarding world in other ways. You will be more useful to us with your human nature intact," he said decisively.  
  
"But if Voldemort is defeated, finally once and for all then there won't be need for smart witches and wizards in the fight against him. The whole wizarding community will be free." She argued.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Trust me, my dear. There are better ways than that."  
  
Hermione's head was spinning and she couldn't think straight. She had a feeling that what Dumbledore was saying was true in part but wasn't the whole truth. She couldn't put a finger on the gap in his logic however, with her head going around in circles. "I should go before Professor Snape knows I'm not in the house," Hermione said, putting down her tea cup and plate. "Thank you for the chat and for tea," she added politely.  
  
Dumbledore smiled at her in a fatherly way and waved good-bye as she stepped into the fireplace. "I have a feeling I shouldn't have told her my suspicions Fawkes," he said to his bird companion. The phoenix looked at him out of one firey eye and seemed to agree.  
  
* * *  
  
When Hermione got back, Snape was waiting for her. "Where have you been?" He demanded, as she stepped out of the fireplace.  
  
Hermione was about to say 'none of your business' but she knew very well that he'd just turn around and remind her that is was his business as he was her guardian. She decided honesty would be the next most annoying thing to him. "I went to see Dumbledore," she said calmly.  
  
"Why?" He insisted, beginning to pace. His flannette shirt billowed behind him the way his cloak had done before.  
  
"I wanted to make sure I'd done the right thing last night," she sighed, going to flop down on the couch.  
  
"Were you tattling to Dumbledore about my business?" He said nastily with a frown, glaring at her.  
  
"Oh, like you weren't going to go and see him at the first opportunity yourself about it." Hermione said, deciding attack was the best line of defence.  
  
"Yes, I was but that's none of your concern," he said coldly. Hermione decided to be an irritating teenager and merely rolled her eyes at him. It infuriated Snape not to be taken seriously. "What exactly did you discuss with him?" He asked, seeming to draw up to an even greater height, his dark eyes piercing as they pinned her to the couch. Hermione was unimpressed. He'd tried this routine on her too many times during her 7 years at Hogwarts to be impressed by it anymore.  
  
"Actually, we talked about black unicorns." She said, deciding to drop that particular bomb sooner rather than later. The silence stretched between them as Snape felt an icy sensation creep up his spine. He had an awful foreboding about what Hermione would do with the information that Dumbledore would have given her; especially when she was still so young, head strong and idealistic.  
  
"Really," he said in a quiet voice. Hermione knew he was more dangerous when he was quiet and she narrowed her eyes, waiting for whatever he was about to throw at her. "And what did he tell you about black unicorns?" He said, sitting down in a chair near her.  
  
"More than you," she snapped, feeling annoyed.  
  
"Which was?" He countered swiftly, refusing to let her de-rail him.  
  
"He told me I could destroy Voldemort in my animagus form," she said bluntly, glaring at him. Snape wanted to swear viciously but he held his tongue. Hermione watched as his face darkened with some strong emotion and he got up with almost violent swiftness from his chair to pace rapidly up and down the room. He cursed Dumbledore mentally. The Head Master did not know Hermione as well as he now did. She was exactly the type to be a martyr for the cause, if she felt it was a genuine solution. "Why didn't you tell me? You knew first!" Hermione said accusingly.  
  
He glanced at her forbiddingly from across the room. "I didn't tell you because you're an impulsive, idealistic, little fool!" Snape said harshly.  
  
"And what's that supposed to mean?" She yelled back, her eyes narrowed.  
  
"You are one of those insufferable Gryffindors who thinks they can save the world by being a bloody martyr, that's why. You're exactly the type of person who honestly believes in the ridiculous notion of heroism," he snapped viciously.  
  
"I may not save the world but I can stop Voldemort," she said, suddenly very still.  
  
"Oh, stop being so annoyingly self-sacrificing. There's no need for it and it doesn't impress me," he said flatly.  
  
"Who's trying to impress you? It's not about you, believe or not. It's about a real solution to a real problem," she said evenly, her face tense.  
  
Snape's jaw tightened. "It's all that time you spent with that bloody Potter, isn't it? He's filled your head with dreams of heroism and simple solutions," he spat.  
  
"Why are you jealous of him?" Hermione asked with sudden insight.  
  
Snape stared at her disbelievingly. "Jealous? Of Potter? You must be mad!" Snape said, barely able to get the words out.  
  
"You know, he has saved the wizarding community from Voldemort on several occasions risking his own life to do it. He is a real hero and you hate it, don't you? Because if he's a hero, doing what he did then what does that make you having been a Death Eater?" She said mercilessly.  
  
Snape felt as though she'd walked up to him and punched him in the face. He was furious. "You think everything is so straightforward and simple, don't you? Potter is good because he's defeated Voldemort and I'm bad because I once served him. Nothing is that simple, Hermione. Grow up. Potter does what he does because he wants revenge on Voldemort for killing his parents. I did what I did for my own good reasons. You can't judge whose reasons are the most noble out of the two of us," he spat.  
  
"You're right, Professor. Nothing is that simple. Harry may want revenge on Voldemort but he also wants to stop him hurting anyone else. You say you had good reason for what you did but you also liked feeling better than the 'mudbloods', didn't you? Why don't you admit you're a nasty elitist?" Hermione spat right back. Snape was learning something else about Hermione. She was pitiless in an argument.  
  
"You don't understand as much as you think you do, Hermione. You're still a child," he said, shaking his head. Hermione let the silence stretch between them so he could think about that last remark. Red crept over Snape's cheekbones as he realised he had just called the person he kissed so passionately two nights ago, a child. She certainly hadn't felt like a child when he'd held her against him and kissed her. The colour in his cheeks deepened and he deliberately squashed the thought.  
  
"I want you to take me to the next Death Eater meeting," Hermione said slowly and clearly. Hermione wanted to spy on the Death Eaters. She reasoned that it may get to the stage eventually where her animagus ability to absorb evil may be the only solution in the fight against Voldemort and if things ever came to that, she wanted to know and have direct access to the deranged leader of the Death Eaters herself. Hermione was not the slightest bit interested in Snape's assignment regarding spying on the assembly, she had entirely her own reasons.  
  
His dark eyes blazed to life. "No! Never! I'm not taking you to one of those. those. You're not a pureblood, Hermione. They'd kill you or far worse," Snape said sharply. His stomach turned to ice at the mere thought. He was startled at the fear that gripped him when he thought of Hermione being caught by a pack of Death Eaters.  
  
"I meant using Harry's invisibility cloak," Hermione clarified, still utterly determined.  
  
He was shaking his head. "No! No way. Not ever. Understand? Don't even think about it," he hissed, dark eyes blazing across the dimly lit room at her.  
  
"Where is the danger if they can't see me?" She demanded petulantly, frustrated by his insistence.  
  
"A million things could go wrong and you could be discovered, Hermione. Just forget about it. I don't want to hear you mention it again," he said with finality. Hermione snorted but said nothing further. She would make her own plans. "I'm going to see Dumbledore myself now," he said, taking some floo powder and throwing it in the fireplace. A second later, he was gone. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13 "For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have enclosed me." Psalms 22:16  
  
That night Snape lay in his bed and contemplated what Hermione had said about Potter. He had never thought of his hatred of Potter arising out of jealously but there had been enormous satisfaction in having the opportunity to kiss Hermione so thoroughly right in front of the little squit's face. He knew perfectly well that both Harry and Ron had had crushes on Hermione at different times during their Hogwarts years and that she had not dated either of them. In fact, he would bet that he got further with Hermione than either of them ever had. He knew Hermione had been asked out by several boys during her time at Hogwarts but had turned them all down, opting to concentrate on her studies. That didn't mean she hadn't enjoyed the odd snogging session with some boys in her year, he could tell from the way she responded to his kisses that she had been kissed before but he knew it had never gone any further than that into a real relationship. It made Snape feel quite smug. While he himself had only kissed her a couple of times, he doubted anyone had ever been given the opportunity to kiss her the way he had nor got the response that he had got. Snape's smirk grew even wider at the thought.  
  
* * *  
  
The very next night, Severus felt the familiar burning on his forearm and immediately pulled on his black robes and mask. He apparated to the place indicated in the last letter from the Death Eaters and waited for Voldemort to appear.  
  
He was one in a crowd of around 200 people which was in sharp contrast to the thousands that used to be at these meetings. Their numbers were slowly swelling though.  
  
Once everyone had arrived, Voldemort made his entrance looking more frighteningly vital than he had for years. As per usual, the meeting started with Voldemort's harangues regarding the necessity to weed out the mudbloods from amongst them. Snape didn't bother paying much attention until Voldemort mentioned something that made his blood run cold.  
  
"There have been reports of a black unicorn in the Dark Forest," Voldemort was saying. "It has only been seen twice by our spies but the forest is being closely watched for another appearance of the creature. Some of you may not know that this creature is one of the few things now left on earth that can actually completely destroy me rather than merely weaken me. As such, it is imperative that this creature be caught and killed swiftly. It cannot be allowed to live! Anyone who brings me proof that this creature had been destroyed will be granted anything within my power to give with the exception of the leadership of the Death Eaters," he hissed.  
  
Snape could feel sweat trickling down his sides inside his robes. He wanted to get back to Hermione and take her to the other side of the globe where Voldemort could not so easily get to her.  
  
"Not much is know about the black unicorn because it is so rare," Voldemort was continuing. "So I cannot tell you how to destroy it but anyone who does accomplish this will have rewards beyond their dreams," he promised, his red eyes glowing in the half light. They were out in the open in a field, lit only by a full moon. It was not as safe as a location that they could lock themselves into but it was adequate because it was deserted and far from any town.  
  
"Snape!" Voldemort suddenly hissed. "Where are you? Come forward." Snape came forward taking off his mask, hoping Voldemort could not smell his fear for Hermione on him. "I will charge you will this task as you are the most educated in our ranks and have the advantage of your animagus form. I want information on this creature at every meeting from now on. I want to know why it has suddenly appeared in this region, it's habits, it's powers and most importantly - I want to know how to destroy it. If you can bring me its body as proof of its death, I may even finally forgive you for your cowardly desertion from our ranks all those years ago," he sneered. "Lest you forget my wrath." he said cruelly, lifting his wand, "crucio!"  
  
Even though Snape knew full well what was coming, it still knocked him to his knees and robbed him of his breath.  
  
::::: * "They gaped upon me with their mouths, as a ravening and a roaring lion. I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels. My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death. For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have inclosed me. I can count all my bones: they look and stare upon me. But be not thou far from me, haste thee to help me. Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog. Save me from the lion's mouth: for thou hast heard me from the horns of the unicorns.":::::  
  
It was morning before he knew where he was again and the Death Eaters had melted into the morning mist like ghosts. He was lying, soaked with dew on the heather covered ground. He could barely move from the after-effects of the crucio curse. Every time he suffered under this curse, it was like dying but actual death would be preferable. He tried to roll over, off his face but he simply couldn't. The effort made him groan aloud in agony. Even crying would hurt too much to bear, so he lay there and simply breathed and waited until he could move again without the universe convulsing in pain.  
  
It was late the next night before he made it back to the house. He fell straight into bed.  
  
Hermione has suspected something was wrong when Snape was missing the entire day. It simply was not like him. She was worried but not overly, as Snape always looked the type who could take care of himself. When he was still not back that night, she got slightly more worried but still didn't contact Dumbledore. She promised herself that she would owl the Head Master if Snape was not back by morning.  
  
Around midnight, she heard a crash downstairs. She immediately got up and went down to his rooms, assuming it was Snape and he'd done something to himself. Sure enough, Snape was there but he was lying across his bed fully clothed and filthy and damp. "Professor? Are you.?" She stopped herself. That was a silly question. Of course he was not alright. Snape was not the kind of person who came home late and dirty unless there had been trouble.  
  
"Oh Professor.. What's happened to you this time?" She breathed softly to herself and looked at him closely. His eyes were open but glazed and once again, he had no injuries. She checked his breathing and pulse - both were normal. When she touched his skin, he groaned in obvious pain. Her eyes narrowed with recognition and suddenly she understood. "Cruciatus?" Was all she said. He grunted in assent. "Okay, I'll be right back."  
  
She went straight to Hogwarts using floo and brought Madame Pomphrey back with her, having explained what happened. Madame Pomphrey went straight to work while Hermione waited out in the sitting room area. Another long night, she predicted to herself.  
  
* * *  
  
Evening had fallen by the time Madame Pomphrey came out of Snape's room. Hermione took the nurse upstairs and gave her something to eat as she hadn't had a break all day.  
  
"Is he going to be okay now?" Hermione asked, as she put a plate of food in front of the tired nurse. "I mean, is he still in pain?"  
  
"No, he'll be fine now but he needs a good night's sleep." Madame Pomphrey replied, taking a grateful sip of the wine Hermione had given her with her meal.  
  
"Have you had to treat him often for this?" Hermione asked quietly, looking down at the table.  
  
Madame Pomphrey smiled sadly at the downbent head of the former Hogwarts pupil. "Yes, my dear. On quite a regular basis."  
  
A flash of anger swept across Hermione's face but was swiftly gone. "Surely, every time this happens it must take its toll?" She murmured through compressed lips.  
  
"I'm afraid so. Each time it takes a little longer for him to respond to my treatment. Dumbledore is on the verge of taking him off the assignment but I think Snape would continue anyway," the nurse said with a sigh.  
  
"Yes, he would." Hermione said flatly, without hesitation.  
  
* * *  
  
The nurse left Snape sleeping peacefully as she headed back to Hogwarts via floo with instructions to Hermione to make Snape rest as much as possible. As though I can make Snape do anything, Hermione thought in irritation.  
  
The next morning Snape came upstairs for breakfast looking pale, the lines on his face cut deeper than before. Hermione's face darkened in anger when she saw how weak he looked. She wanted to kick something.  
  
She stared at him broodingly as he ate his breakfast. He studiously ignored her gaze and read a wizarding newspaper as he ate his scrambled eggs and toast. Hermione just sat there and looked at him, daring him to break the silence. Finally, once he finished eating, he did.  
  
"It's no good staring at me like that, Hermione. I told you I wasn't taking you to one of those death traps," he said with false mildness, folding the newspaper.  
  
"You should have," she argued directly.  
  
He looked up at her, his dark eyes sunken further into his face and ringed with shadows. "They know about you, Hermione. Do you know what was urgent about that meeting? Voldemort's spies told him about the appearance of a black unicorn in the Dark Forest. He knows that the black unicorn is one of the few things that can finally destroy him and he's determined to destroy it first!" He snarled at her, dark eyes flashing.  
  
"Good," Hermione said simply. "Let him be afraid. You know what? He should be," Hermione said with narrowed eyes.  
  
Snape felt apoplectic. "Do you understand nothing, after everything you've been told?" He barked, thumping the table with one hand in frustration. "Voldemort will totally destroy you!"  
  
"He doesn't know how," Hermione said calmly.  
  
Snape went still. That was true, he thought. "He will find out, Hermione! Of all people, Voldemort will find out. He's offered huge rewards to anyone who destroys the black unicorn. You will be hunted, in your animagus form. You must promise me not to transform ever again," he said in a low, barely controlled voice.  
  
"I don't do it deliberately," Hermione explained with a shrug.  
  
"What do you mean, you don't do it deliberately?" Snape asked, with a deep frown.  
  
"I mean that I don't have complete control over it," Hermione said honestly.  
  
Snape stared at her in horror. "What makes you think that?" He demanded.  
  
"Well, although I had the potion the first time and chose the timing myself then I think that I was able to transform so easily because I felt very emotional at the time," Hermione explained, not very confidently. "It was almost like, being in a highly emotional state helped me do it or even caused it in some way or at least, caused an almost irresistible urge to transform."  
  
Snape listened carefully, trying to piece together what she was saying. "Do you think you would have succeeded in transforming if you hadn't felt very emotional the first time?" He asked.  
  
"Yes, because of the potion but the second time I was feeling. I don't know. suffocated and by my feelings. almost like they could erupt out of me like a volcano. I suspect that each time I feel overwhelmed like that I will transform spontaneously and I won't be able to stop it," Hermione said almost apologetically knowing she wasn't explaining it very well.  
  
Snape looked appalled. He himself knew how strong the urge to transform was when under stress but by the time he had become an animagus, he was old enough to control his emotions and thus, also when he transformed. Obviously, Hermione still being so young and a teenager as well meant that she may not be able to control her emotions enough to stop herself transforming under stress. Snape wanted to swear violently. He felt sick with terror at the threat this new insight posed to his ward.  
  
"If you feel stressed in future Hermione, you must lock yourself into a room and try and calm down." He ordered fearfully.  
  
Hermione knew that that would be impossible. Even from the two times she had transformed, she knew that the urge would drive her out to the Dark Forest before she even did the transformation. As a black unicorn, she felt no fear and that was an irresistible temptation when she was under stress.  
  
She reached out her hand across the table and took Snape's hand in hers. She didn't care if he didn't like it; they both needed the comfort. His hand was as cold as ice in her warm one. She ran her thumb over the back of his hand. For all he had been gardening, his hand was still milk white against her pale brown skin. "Don't get so worried!" She said firmly but comfortingly, looking him in the eye. His hand tightened on hers and they sat that way for a long time.  
  
(*Psalms 22:13-21) 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Just some explanations up front - I'm not a modern history scholar and I do not have an in-depth understanding of WWII or the Holocaust so I apologise if any information contained in this chapter is not quite correct. This chapter is not a comment on the Holocaust or any kind of dissertation on it. The Holocaust has been used purely as a plot device here to allow the reader to find out more about Snape's background as a Death Eater. (You'll understand what I mean when you read it.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
"few and evil have the days of the years of my life been" Genesis 47:9  
  
Things were quiet for a few weeks and before she knew it, Hermione had started at Hogsbridge University. She had opted to do several general Arts subjects first year before she made any decisions that would take her down any particular career track. She was tossing up about going into the Department for Magical Research and Development at the Ministry of Magic but had not finally made up her mind whether she wanted a research and development career as yet.  
  
Padma had gone onto Hogsbridge as well and was doing a major in Muggle Studies hoping to eventually get into the Muggle Relations Department at the Ministry. One of her first assignments had been to compare the previous war on Voldemort and the Death Eaters with a similar Muggle crisis. Of course, those brought up in wizarding families had little exposure to Muggle history or current events. Padma had asked Hermione for help in gathering Muggle sources of information.  
  
One afternoon, one week into semester found them in front of Hermione's TV with a stack of videos and DVDs. Padma had never used a TV before. "This is so cool! Geez, Muggles are clever. They don't have pensieves or moving photos or crystal balls so they use these to document their history visually," she observed, looking at the TV from all sides.  
  
"Yes. Now you decided on World War II as you comparative Muggle crisis and fortunately there is heaps of information on this part of history," Hermione clarified, setting up the video with a tape.  
  
"Uh huh. I wanted to compare the Nazi's hatred of Jews with the Death Eaters hatred of Muggle born wizards and witches," Padma elaborated.  
  
"Oh. So you're really interested in what Muggles call 'the Holocaust'," Hermione said with a frown, glancing back from the video at Padma.  
  
"That's right. The whole of World War II would have been an impossibly broad subject for an undergraduate paper. That would require a Ph.D. thesis," Padma explained.  
  
"Very true," Hermione agreed. "Okay, so have you formed a hypothesis?"  
  
"Not yet. I will compare why Nazis hated Jews with why Death Eaters hated Muggle borns. I'll look for common threads and then come up with my hypothesis," Padma said with a decisive nod.  
  
"You're looking for a common basis for the prejudice across Nazis and Death Eaters?" Hermione probed.  
  
"Something like that. There may not be any but it will be an interesting study," Padma qualified cautiously. "Why do you think Nazis hated the Jews?" She asked curiously.  
  
"There are a lot of theories," Hermione said with a shrug. "I don't know a lot about it except that ostensibly is was about racial purity. Nazis had an ideal of 'the Master Race' made up of pure blood Germans. They didn't want the German race sullied by Jewish blood intermingling with theirs'." Hermione said, her disgust evident in her voice. "Really, it was probably economic. The Jews in Europe were very rich and economically powerful. The Germans wanted what they had and used the excuse of racial purity to get it. The Germans felt threatened by the Jews."  
  
"Do you think the old wizarding families felt threatened by the Muggle borns coming into the wizarding community?" Padma asked seriously.  
  
"I don't see why. The old wizarding families are far wealthier and more powerful than the new Muggle born additions to the wizarding world," Hermione pondered.  
  
"Then it boils down to the issue of blood lines and the Death Eaters not wanting wizard and Muggle blood mixed," Padma continued.  
  
"Prejudice must have some basis in fear," Hermione reasoned.  
  
"You're right," Padma agreed. "What were the Death Eaters afraid of?"  
  
"Maybe weakening their magic over time by mixing it - even in small amounts - with Muggle blood?" Hermione postulated.  
  
"Definitely possible," Padma nodded.  
  
"What we don't know yet is whether their fears are actually justified or not," Hermione said thoughtfully.  
  
Padma was silent as this realisation dawned on her for the first time. "So you think the Death Eaters may be right?" She finally said, her voice quiet with horror.  
  
"No. I will never believe there is any just cause for murder, torture or any attempt to wipe out a whole race or section of society," Hermione said firmly, her eyes hard.  
  
"No," Padma said softly.  
  
"Even if we Muggle borns do weaken the pure bloods' magic over time, I don't believe they were right to embark on their campaign of terror. Here's why," Hermione stated and turned on the first video.  
  
Sketchy black and white shots jerked over the screen. Humans packed like animals into cattle cars. Dozens of people squashed into one flea-ridden room in the ghettos, their faces skeletal and their eyes without hope. Walking bones with shaved heads in rags lying on rough wooden bunks, six deep. Old men being kicked to death in the street; mothers forced to throw their babies on huge lit pyres. Rows of ovens filled with human bones. Human carcasses being bulldozed like dirt into huge mass graves. Massive bonfires of the dead with the bodies stacked like so much firewood; half dead women undergoing grotesque tortures under the pretence of medical science. Piles of shoes, spectacles, gold teeth, hair, clothes; all that remained of millions slaughtered. Naked men crowded into huge shower rooms and gassed; the lines of people stripped naked and shot dead before huge pits. Nazis setting huge dogs on helpless Jews on the streets; winding lines of people carrying all the possessions they could manage as they marched away from their homes. People screaming for their loved ones as they were separated at the death camps; mothers, children, grandparents, siblings.  
  
Minute after minute of the horror unreeled before them. Hermione's face was tight with cynical and tired resignation. Padma's was flooded with horror, never having seen anything like it in her life.  
  
There was a sudden crash behind them. Hermione and Padma jumped and turned to look. A very sick-looking, white-faced Snape was standing there with a mug smashed at his feet. His dark eyes were riveted on the screen.  
  
"What is this?" He rasped.  
  
"Footage from World War II," Hermione replied, examining him with concern. "Are you sick, Professor?" She added.  
  
He didn't reply, simply watching as though unable to remove his gaze. Hermione thought she understood. She knew what Padma didn't, that Snape had been a Death Eater. She wondered how many scenes similar to these he'd seen during those years as Voldemort's flunky. She turned back to the screen. The footage was coming to an end, thank goodness.  
  
As soon as the tape ended, Snape woke up as if from a dream and fled downstairs to his rooms.  
  
"Well, that was odd." Padma observed, looking after him.  
  
"It is pretty horrifying the first time you see this footage," Hermione fobbed her off. Padma was quiet. That was a complete understatement.  
  
"There are some other tapes that explain more about what was in the raw footage," Hermione said to change the subject. "Do you want to see those now?"  
  
"Yes, please. I'll make some notes too," Padma said gratefully, getting out a quill and some parchment from her bag.  
  
* * *  
  
Snape sat on an armchair in front of the fire, as still as death and staring sightlessly ahead of him. Memories flickered in front of his eyes, each as dark as the images he had just watched. "Muggles do this to each other, too." He murmured.  
  
It was dark before Padma left and she thanked Hermione for her help. She was unusually quiet, the scale of the evil and human tragedy she'd witnessed too great to even comprehend fully.  
  
After she'd left, Hermione made some coffee and on an impulse took some to Snape having cleaned up the broken mug earlier while Padma was busy making notes.  
  
"Professor?" She called as she went down the stairs. He didn't answer. "Professor?" She found him still in the armchair looking shocked and lost in some other world. Not a pleasant one either, from the look of it. "It's freezing down here," she commented, putting the coffee down next to him. She efficiently built a fire. She looked at him again. He hadn't moved. "Professor, what's wrong?" She demanded, handing him the mug.  
  
Finally he looked at her and took the coffee. He didn't drink it, however. "I take it that footage brought back vivid memories of being a Death Eater?" Hermione stated bluntly. He nearly dropped his coffee. He was in no state to wrangle with her.  
  
"Yes," he rasped.  
  
"Why'd you do it?" She asked flatly, sitting on the foot-rest.  
  
"Become a Death Eater?" He clarified. "I come from an old, powerful, wealthy, wizarding bloodline Miss Granger." He said with a sudden, cold formality.  
  
So it's 'Miss Granger' again now, is it? Hermione thought with irritation.  
  
"I was afraid our powerful magical bloodline would be diluted if we allowed Muggle borns to invade the wizarding world," he continued harshly.  
  
"So I was right," Hermione concluded aloud as an aside. "Was it worth all the torture and murder?" She asked mercilessly, her face withdrawn.  
  
"No!" He almost yelled and put the mug down sharply. "No! How could it be?" He asked, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.  
  
"Then why?" Hermione persisted, needing to know.  
  
"I didn't know," he replied emotionlessly, suddenly flat. "Not anything like the full extent of it. When I did, I went to Dumbledore and turned myself in."  
  
"How could you not have known for all those years?" She asked incredulously.  
  
"I went into the Death Eaters as a Potion Maker and Muggle spy. I only had to attend very few, formal meetings. I was never part of the most inner circle. Most of the time I was in a lab making potions that were picked up by other Death Eaters or I was in the Muggle parts of Europe someplace spying," he explained wearily.  
  
"But you've never lived as a Muggle," Hermione questioned.  
  
"I didn't spy as I am. I'm an unregistered animagus. I spied in my raven form," he said quietly.  
  
It took Hermione a few seconds to take that in. "And the potions? Surely you could tell from what was ordered that it was being used for murderous purposes?" She probed.  
  
"Some were poisons but most were truth serums or body binds or other fairly innocuous things. The Death Eaters weren't very sophisticated. Their methods were remarkably similar to the sheer base brutality of that. that."  
  
"Footage?" Hermione supplied.  
  
"If that's what it's called," he replied drily, never having watched TV or a video before even in Hermione's home.  
  
"How did you finally find out?" Hermione asked more gently.  
  
"Voldemort was thinking of promoting me from what I can gather but I was untested in the more unsavoury aspects of the Death Eaters' activities. I'd been oddly protected from the worst of it for over a decade. One night, he called me for a special tour of the inner circle's operations. I'm sure it was quite deliberate. If I'd shown any reaction at all to the horrors he was about to show me, I'm sure he would have killed me on the spot. There are times I wish he had," Snape said frankly and without self- pity. Hermione carefully did not interrupt.  
  
"We toured.Death camps so similar to the ones I saw today." He couldn't continue for a minute. "People half dead, corpses everywhere, the stench of death. All were Muggle born witches or wizards - any half bloods. Even friends of half bloods were targeted. Horribly tortured people in filthy, flea-ridden, rat-infested cages like animals sitting in their own excrement." Snape covered his eyes with one pale, long-fingered hand. "They stared at me without hope once they saw the Dark Mark on my robes. That was when I first really understood what I was. These people saw no difference between me and those that tortured them everyday," Snape's face was bone white and his slender hands trembled. "They were starved like skeletons, their heads shaved and sitting naked on cold, bare stone; chained like dogs. The had horrible infected wounds from some bizarre experiments that were being run on them." Snape shook his head. "I can't describe the filth, the dark, the despair - the complete inhumaneness of it."  
  
Hermione was quiet. "Not all of them were treated that way. The pretty Muggle born girls and boys were kept clean and better fed to be used sexually by the high ranking Death Eaters." Hermione wanted to bring up her lunch. "Of course, they were all killed eventually too," Snape continued blankly.  
  
"How many died during that time?" She asked quietly in a neutral tone.  
  
"I don't know," Snape admitted with shame. "I should but I don't."  
  
"How did you get away?" She asked.  
  
"After the 'tour of operations' we were going to have a dinner. I never wanted to eat again," he commented bitterly. "I was shown to my room in Voldemort's manor and I apparated as soon as I was left alone and went straight to Dumbledore. I wanted to go straight to Azkaban rather than be associated with those evil lunatics ever again," he explained, his face tight.  
  
"If you had gone to Azkaban, all you would have been able to think about was those wretches in Voldemort's clutches," Hermione observed quietly.  
  
"Yes, I know. I thought it was fitting punishment. Dumbledore knew too but said I would be more useful outside of Azkaban," Snape added.  
  
"He wanted to save you from there," Hermione said.  
  
"Yes," Snape agreed.  
  
Hermione was silent for a few minutes. "What did your parents think about you becoming a Death Eater?" She asked curiously.  
  
"They were Death Eaters too but like me, weren't part of the inner circle," Snape said quietly, looking away.  
  
"So now? Are they okay with your choice to leave?" Hermione asked gently.  
  
"They were killed by Aurors long before I defected," Snape said emotionlessly.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said simply.  
  
"Don't be. I don't miss them." He said matter-of-factly. Hermione looked at him without surprise. Something in her expression suddenly made a connection in Snape's mind.  
  
"You're the same, aren't you? You don't miss your parents either. That's why you never cry," he said with narrowed eyes.  
  
"No," Hermione said honestly, her face blank. She was silent for a few moments. "My parents weren't very affectionate people and they had ridiculous expectations. If I got 98% in an exam, they asked what happened to the other 2%. It was hard work earning their love and approval, and I never managed it." She explained finally, with a shrug. "What were your parents like?" She asked.  
  
"Hard as diamonds, cold as glaciers and distant as a mountain peak," he replied wryly. "I was their only son of an old bloodline, so you can imagine the expectations."  
  
"Yes," Hermione sighed. "And you were brought up with this pride of pure bloodline?"  
  
He simply nodded. "I didn't question it and I should have," he muttered.  
  
"Why? In a way, it makes sense to try and preserve the full magical strength of the wizarding community," Hermione said logically.  
  
"The biggest lies are concocted mainly of truth," Snape snapped angrily. "I fell for it."  
  
"Did you suspect that the Death Eaters' strategy was simply to destroy anyone with mixed Muggle and wizarding blood?" Hermione questioned with a frown.  
  
"I didn't see it with my own eyes so I deliberately didn't think about it. I guess I knew deep down. I just didn't want to face it. My family and all my friends were Death Eaters. On the surface, even if I had faced the truth there seemed no-where to run to," Snape said resignedly. "It sounds pathetic even to my own ears now."  
  
"Poor Malfoy," she murmured.  
  
"Yes. He would appear to be in a similar situation," Snape agreed.  
  
"He's not even as smart as you. He won't see any alternatives," she mused.  
  
Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "We have yet to know Malfoy's true character under a big test," Snape replied fairly. Hermione suddenly understood Snape's preferential treatment of the boy. It was born of a sympathetic understanding of his situation in life as it had been so similar to his own growing up.  
  
"If you saw so many people in these death camps that one time Professor, how did so many disappear without the Muggle community panicking?" Hermione asked inquisitively.  
  
"Memory charms. The Death Eaters took people that were suspected of having wizarding blood and then everyone who had known them had their memory erased," Snape explained simply. "Tens of thousands disappeared from all over the world during that decade, I estimate."  
  
"A huge, well-organised endeavour." Hermione commented with a shake of her head.  
  
"Yes. My role as a spy was to identify them from ordinary Muggles," he said with a twist of his thin, pale lips. "I had no idea what happened to them after that. I chose not to know." He added bitterly.  
  
"How did you find them?" She asked thoughtfully.  
  
"Arithmancy at first. Then once I'd located a suspect, I watched them in my animagus form until they gave themselves away," he clarified.  
  
"Use of raw magic under emotional stress?" Hermione guessed.  
  
"Yes," he answered briefly.  
  
"There must have been hundreds of spies," Hermione said with a frown. "Then the Death Eaters who ran the camps and experimented on the captives as well as the elite inner circle," she said, thinking aloud. "Most of them got away." She concluded.  
  
"Yes," Snape said heavily. "Very few are in Azkaban.  
  
"The same happened with the Nazis," Hermione said with quiet anger. "You can't identify them?" She asked hopefully.  
  
"We wore masks at meetings and I had little contact with other Death Eaters other than that apart from my family and friends - nearly all of whom are now either dead or in Azkaban." Snape said with a hopeless shrug. "I could now identify very few. I would need proof anyway and how would I get it now?"  
  
"Mmmmm," Hermione mumbled, disappointed. She noticed suddenly that he looked drawn. "I'm sorry talking about all this has been hard on you," she remarked and gave his arm a brief squeeze. He jumped as though she'd burnt him.  
  
"It should be hard on me," Snape said sullenly, deep lines cutting into his drawn flesh from nose to mouth. She examined him closely and her thoughts from the animagus potions lesson came back to her.  
  
"That's why you do all those things, isn't it? Risk your health making noxious potions without protection; skip meals and stay in those dungeons never seeing the sun; test dangerous potions on yourself. It's all a form of self-punishment, isn't it? Even being nasty to people so they stay away from you is a kind of self-enforced loneliness that adds to the punishment," she reflected rather analytically.  
  
Snape's dark eyes bored into her profile, blind for once to its delicate, feminine curves. He was speechless. Was it true, he thought anxiously? If it was, why had he never realised it himself? He frowned deeply. He suddenly felt as transparent as glass and he loathed it.  
  
Hermione glanced at him after a moment when he was silent. His face was white and haggard, his body tense and bowed. Her face softened into concern. "You need a good meal and a glass of wine. I'll bet you've eaten nothing all day because I've been out for breakfast and lunch," she accused gently with a wry smile.  
  
She was right. Snape hated it. She got up and said, "come upstairs in an hour and we'll have dinner, okay?" Before she turned to go, she dropped a kiss atop Snape's head. Snape grew even more rigid under her affectionate caress. He didn't relax until he heard her footsteps on the stairs going up to the kitchen.  
  
* * *  
  
As Hermione made dinner she contemplated what Snape had just told her. She made no excuses for Snape's behaviour in the past but she could imagine that it would have been very hard to break out of the life his parents and friends had wanted for him. She could even understand to a lesser extent the fear that drove the Death Eaters of their magical ability being diminished by the Muggle-borns. She felt restless and a bit sick as she chopped carrots and peeled potatoes. Once again, she didn't know how all this made her feel. She still felt a bizarre sense of concern about him but the thought of him being involved in these activities made her stomach churn. She very much wanted to cry but found, as per usual, that she couldn't. She knew she was still sexually attracted to him too as sitting near him, talking to him today had made her skin prickle with awareness even while what she was hearing was horrifying her. She felt mixed up and confused and over-wrought.  
  
Meanwhile Snape was struggling not to think about all the memories that had been dredged up that day nor how hard Hermione had struggled not to show her revulsion regarding what he had told her. Still, she had wanted to know and he was tired of hiding these things inside him and allowing them to grow in him like a cancer, taking over his mind. He did not understand why he had told all this to her in particular, apart from the fact that she already knew general details about his past thanks to that blasted Potter. Then again, he still had no idea why he did all manner of things with regard to Hermione. He wanted to protect her but he didn't want to hide the truth about himself from her either. Better she has no illusions, he thought grimly. He knew she was not a romantic person nor that he was likely to be the object of any projected romantic ideals but he didn't want to lie to her, not even by omission or be evasive. Suddenly he realised that somewhere along the line, Hermione had earned his respect and trust. He frowned darkly. It was not in his nature to trust, he was a naturally suspicious person. He bit his lip hard as he contemplated the dangers that this new feeling of trust could bring. 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen  
  
"O my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their assembly, mine honour, be not thou united" Genesis 49:6  
  
There was less than a month before their magical contract was over. Snape wasn't entirely sure how he felt about this fact. Once part of him would be glad to get back to the comforting familiarity of his routine at Hogwarts and another part of him felt terrified that the past 2 months had changed him so much that even the habitual would feel strange. He felt off- balance and as though he had woken up one morning to find that he was really somebody else. He didn't know what had brought this feeling on. Possibly the unwelcome sexual re-awakening he'd experienced since he'd lived in close proximity to Hermione or maybe it was being in the Muggle world without anything recognizable around him. Perhaps both.  
  
Perhaps, a small voice at the back of his mind suggested, you've gotten used to having Hermione to yourself and you don't want to have to give her up. He told the voice to shut up even as an inescapable feeling of dread overtook him at the thought.  
  
His mind drifted over the events of the past few weeks. It was amazing that none of Voldemort's spies had seen him on either of the two occasions when he had been with Hermione as an animagus in the Dark Forest. It was true that he had not spent much time with her on either occasion but it was still incredibly fortunate for them both. Snape knew full well that if any of Voldemort's spies had seen them together, they would both already be dead.  
  
Hermione was feeling listless too. University was far more challenging and difficult than high school. She was used to only working as hard as her natural curiosity and interest demanded in order to get top marks. At university, she was going to have to put in some serious hard yards to maintain a good grade point average.  
  
Ridiculous as it seemed, the thought of Snape leaving in a month's time made her feel unbearably hollow. True, he wasn't much company at the best of times in the conventional sense but she would miss him. Since the night of the party, he had given no sign that he even realised she was female let alone that he was still sexually attracted to her. Suddenly, that thought brought tears to her eyes. It startled her that she cared so much about how he felt about her. When did that happen, she wondered? She also felt annoyed that after showing her in such a graphic way that he desired her, he had gone on to pretend it never happened ever since. She could tell herself it was because he was being a responsible guardian but it pissed her off none-the-less and didn't allay her insecurities.  
  
Apart from all that, she was worried about him. She didn't want him to go to any more Death Eater meetings, especially not if he came back in the same state he did the last time. She was determined to go to the next meeting and sent her owl to Harry with a request to borrow his invisibility cloak for a few weeks.  
  
* * *  
  
Snape knew it would not be long before he was summoned again and sure enough, within a week of recovering from the cruciatus curse the mark on his arm began burning again late one evening. With an angry sigh, he pulled on his Death Eater robes and his mask, and apparated at the designated place.  
  
Hermione awoke from a deep sleep with a start. She wasn't sure what woke her except perhaps the echoing quietness of the house. She frowned and got out of bed. Something told her that something wasn't quite right. She crept out into the hallway. Suddenly she noticed there was a dim light from downstairs. Was Snape still up, she wondered? She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall; it read 1am. Impulsively she went downstairs. If Snape wanted to know why she was there, she would say she heard something.  
  
The first thing she saw was a large black owl sitting on the back of one of the couches in the sitting room. Hermione recognised that owl and it only meant one thing - that Snape was out on Death Eater business. She went through to his room and sure enough, there was an open parchment with a Dark Mark on it. Hermione felt absolutely no conscience about picking it up and reading it. If Snape was in potential danger, she wanted to know about it and was completely unapologetic about it.  
  
Her mouth fell open as she read it. She couldn't believe where they were meeting that night. How was Snape going to explain this, she wondered heatedly? Angrily she crumpled the paper into a ball and watched with surprise as it disappeared into a flash of green light. "Well, that was careless of you Snape. Obviously you're not supposed to leave these around for nosey teenagers to read," Hermione murmured.  
  
She hurried back up the stairs and pulled on a track suit. She left her feet bare even though it was cold as any noise of footsteps at all would give her away. She pulled Harry's cloak over her and using floo, made her way to a pub in a village many miles away.  
  
The pub was not far from Snape's family home and she could quite easily walk there in less than 10 minutes. As she could have predicted, Snape's home was really a mansion - a huge gothic pile.  
  
The huge, rusted, iron gates were easy enough to get through with a simple metal bending charm. She had expected there to be some vicious charms protecting the place but only encountered similar tactics to the ones Hogwarts used. To a Muggle, the mansion would look merely derelict and deserted. As for the wizarding community, no-one would dare enter the Snape mansion without permission.  
  
She snuck in through a ground level, library window. If Hermione has been in her normal frame of mind, she probably would have had to be forcibly dragged from that room. It had floor to vaulted ceiling of books of every size, shape, binding and language imaginable. The room itself was the size of a ballroom and had tall cases of yet more books and magical instruments lined up neatly along the centre of the room. The dark wood panelling and faded brocades gave the room a dark and neglected and austere air. Hermione was to find later that almost the whole house had a similar feel to it.  
  
It was not hard to find the Death Eaters' meeting. She simply followed the hissing voice that was surprisingly loud and clear down corridors until she came to a well-lit room. Confidently she sidled in, knowing she could not be seen or heard. Her heart stopped for a minute when she saw the reptilian speaker. He was tall and broad shouldered under his Death Eater robes, and had a lean, broad face with slit-like, red eyes. Was this what Harry had had to face so many times, she wondered with a pang for her friend. He was truly hideous. He was hairless and had no nose - only tiny, flat nostrils. His mouth was thin and his skin a repulsive shade of parchment yellow. Dracula eat your heart out, Hermione thought inconsequentially.  
  
He was haranguing his Death Eaters, around 200 of them Hermione estimated.  
  
**". . . I also want to talk to you quite candidly about a very grave matter. We can talk about it quite frankly among ourselves and yet we will never speak of it publicly. Just as we did not hesitate before to do our duty to ourselves, and to annihilate those Death Eaters who had lapsed - so we have never spoken about it and will never speak of it again. It was that good breeding which is a matter of course and which I am glad to say is inherent in us, that made us never discuss it among ourselves, never speak of it. It appalled us all, and yet everyone was certain that he would do it the next time if such orders should be issued and it should be necessary.  
  
"I am referring to the Muggle-born Wizard Eradication Programme, the extermination of the Muggle-born among us. It is one of those things which is easy to talk about. 'The Muggle-borns will be exterminated', says every Death Eater, 'It's clear, it's in our programme. Elimination of the Muggle- borns, extermination and we'll do it.' And then they come along, the worthy Death Eaters, and each one of them produces his decent Muggle-born. It's clear the others are swine, but this one is a fine Muggle-born wizard. Not one of those who talk like that has watched it happening, not one of them has been through it. Most of you will know what it means when a hundred corpses are lying side by side, or five hundred or a thousand are lying there. To have stuck it out and--apart from a few exceptions due to human weakness -- to have remained decent, that is what has made us tough. This is a glorious page in our history, and one that has never been written and can never be written. For we know how difficult we would have made it for ourselves if, on top of the bombing raids, the burdens and deprivations of war, we still had the number of Muggle-borns today in every town as secret saboteurs, agitators and troublemakers. We would now probably have reached the stage when the Muggle-borns were still a large part of the body of the wizarding community.  
  
"We took from them what wealth they had. I issued a strict order, which you had carried out, that this wealth should, as a matter of course, be handed over to be shared among the Death Eaters without reserve. I have taken none of it for myself. Individual wizards who have lapsed will be punished in accordance with an order I issued at the beginning which gave this warning: Whoever takes so much as a knut of it personally is a dead wizard. A number of Death Eaters--there are not very many of them -- have fallen short, and they have died, without mercy. We had the moral right, we had the duty to ourselves, to destroy these Muggle-borns who wanted to destroy us. But we have not the right to enrich ourselves personally with so much as a fur, a watch, a knut, a cigarette or anything else. We have exterminated a bacterium because we do not want in the end to be infected by the bacterium and die of it. I will not see so much as a small area of sepsis appear here or gain a hold. Wherever it may form, we will cauterize it. All in all, we can say that we fulfilled this most difficult duty for the love of our pureblood wizards. And our spirit, our soul, our character has not suffered injury from it. . . . " Hermione held her hand over her mouth in case she let slip any noise to betray her presence. Her eyes were filled with tears of disbelief and utter horror. She had wondered about these Death Eater meetings in a vague way from time to time but the reality of the depravity and evil was something she could never have imagined. She could not believe how blatant they were in their evil nor how completely they clung to their own self- image as 'decent' and 'well bred' and 'morally right'. It was ludicrous! It was deeply terrifying. Still, Voldemort was almost hypnotic in his rhetoric.  
  
After Voldemort's speech several Death Eaters were called up to report on their activities. With such small numbers, they were not able to accomplish much anymore. Someone mysteriously disappearing; someone's name being smeared, someone losing their job at the Ministry, someone hexed; it was pitiful compared to the one-time scale of their operation that Snape had described to her.  
  
Finally Hermione heard Snape's name being called. He came forward, taking off his mask. Hermione watched him anxiously. "Well," Voldemort hissed. "I hope you have some information on the black unicorn for me. It's your special assignment and I expect results."  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows. Her animagus had been made Snape's special assignment? He'd never told her that. She watched as Snape bent one knee to Voldemort the way the others who had come forward had. It looked automatic and practised to Hermione. As though he had been doing it all his life, as he probably had.  
  
"Yes, my Lord. As I'm sure your spies have told you, the unicorn has not appeared again. However, in my family's library I have come across an ancient Arabic source regarding the creature." Hermione's ears pricked up. "Apparently, when the unicorn kills - it charges with its gold horn. Anyone whose skin is pierced by this horn has any dark power drawn out via the horn. The gold horn absorbs this power, turns red and then finally black before dropping off. The unicorn loses its magical properties and becomes an ordinary black horse. The blackened horn is then useless too."  
  
Voldemort studied Snape with displeasure. "And how can this creature be destroyed?"  
  
"It can't be killed until it's sacrificed its horn in such a way," Snape replied steadily.  
  
Voldemort looked very displeased. "So, in order to be destroyed, this creature must destroy another's power first?" He hissed, eyes glowing.  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Snape confirmed calmly.  
  
"Truly, a dark creature." Voldemort said with a sneer. "Can it be caught?"  
  
"The only information I could find was from the apocryphal writings of St Macrina. It reads:  
  
*** "In the beginning, they were like the unicorn - wild and uncommitted such as cannot be caught by the hunter, no matter how skilful. Nay but he can be tamed only of his own free will"."  
  
Voldemort's eyes narrowed with concentration. "So it can be tamed, if it can be persuaded," he mused aloud.  
  
Well, you won't be persuading me, Hermione thought.  
  
Voldemort's gaze came to rest on Snape. "Well Snape, you know your assignment now. Find and tame this unicorn and when you have, bring it to me!"  
  
Snape didn't flicker an eyelid. "Yes, my Lord." He murmured.  
  
"You have done well Snape so I will not inflict my usual punishment for your previous disloyalty to me," Voldemort said contemptuously. Hermione let her breath out quietly in relief. Snape nodded and pulled his mask back on, melting back into the crowd.  
  
The meeting didn't last much longer, it had already been going for the two hours Hermione had been there and goodness knows how long before. One by one the Death Eaters melted into the night; either apparating or using one of the fireplaces. Voldemort was, mercifully, the first to go. Hermione wasn't sure when Snape went but the large, formal sitting room was empty inside of ten minutes.  
  
(** Adapted from a speech given to SS leaders 4 October 1943 at Posen, Poland by Heinrich Himmler (source: Noakes, J. and Pridham, G. Nazism: A Documentary Reader. Volume III "Foreign Policy, War and Racial Extermination" Exeter, UK: University of Exeter Press, 1984, pages 1199- 1200.). )  
  
(*** St Macrina's apocryphal quote taken from Madeleine L'Engle's 'The Young Unicorns'.) 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen  
  
" this house shall become a desolation." Jeremiah 22:5  
  
Hermione didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay and take a good, long look at Snape's home and heritage. So she did. Leaving the cloak on in case there were any lurking Death Eaters, she wondered down long and dark corridors barely lit by dim, magical torches along the walls.  
  
She looked into the countless rooms. There was an entire wing of elaborate but old-fashioned guest bedrooms - all immense with heavy furniture, and rich drapes and tapestries. Another wing was obviously the servants' quarters. The vast middle section had several ballrooms, a colossal entry foyer with grand stair cases, several dining rooms of differing sizes, sitting rooms, drawing rooms, cards and games rooms, a conservatory, a music room, an art gallery, the library, a private theatre, and a private museum. In the final wing were the family's private rooms. Each member had their own suite of rooms including an immense bedroom, a bathroom, a study, a dressing room and a sitting room.  
  
You'd get tired just walking from your bed in the morning to the bathroom to the dressing room to the sitting room, Hermione thought feeling exhausted at the mere idea. No wonder Snape had turned up his nose at her parents' house. It looked less than their servants' quarters here, for all its modern trendiness.  
  
Under the light of a full moon she could see the grounds. There was a large lake glittering under the moon, stables, walled gardens, a maze, open formal gardens with dried up fountains, manicured lawns (who kept them manicured, she wondered?) and woodlands full of ancient trees. It was fairy tale place gone to ruin, she decided. For all its grandeur, it was austere and forbidding. It was a house whose day had come and gone - a place forgotten and uncared for. A place of shadows and long held secrets that no-one cared to know anymore.  
  
Finally, she headed back to the art gallery. Again, it was as big as a ballroom; its walls lined with family portraits as well as priceless, original wizarding art.  
  
She took the cloak off as it was obvious there was no-one there but her. She kept it folded over one arm just in case, however. The minute she took off the cloak, she heard an exclamation. She froze.  
  
"Hermatica?" A deep, vaguely familiar voice said. Hermione anxiously scanned the room. "Over here," the voice said again, more softly. With relief, Hermione realised it was one of the portraits. She made her way over to it. It was one of the larger ones, in an ornate gilt frame. She stared. If it weren't for the rich and elaborate Arabian robes, she would think it was Snape himself. The man in the frame stared frankly back, his face frozen in shock. "What are you doing here, Hermatica?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"My name isn't Hermatica, it's Hermione." She corrected emphatically. She felt strange. His deep-set, dark eyes were looking at her with an odd mixture of regret, longing and another emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on. It made her feel strange and suddenly her heart lurched inside her as she realised with a flash of panic that what she wanted more than anything else was for Snape to look at her in just this way. It was eerie because it was almost as if Snape was - the man in the portrait looked so similar to him. Hermione felt a bit shocked and dislocated from the unexpectedness of this personal revelation.  
  
The man in the portrait frowned at her words. "But you look just like her apart from those dreadful clothes," he said.  
  
Hermione suddenly felt miffed. It may be a track suit she was wearing but it was a very trendy, sporty tracksuit. She thought she looked good. "Who is Hermatica?" She asked, annoyed.  
  
The man just looked at her sadly, almost looking through her. "Someone I knew a long time ago." He said finally.  
  
"Well, I'm not her okay? Who are you? An ancestor of Severus Snape, I presume?" She asked, trying to ignore the craving in the shadowed eyes of Snape's look-a-like as they rested on her.  
  
The man frowned more deeply. "I AM Severus Snape," he said, abruptly arrogant.  
  
"Okay, so Snape was named after you." Hermione stated.  
  
"Are you talking about that cheerless, taciturn young man who used to live here?" The portrait asked out of the blue.  
  
"I don't know. How long ago was that?" She asked. It certainly sounded like her Snape.  
  
"Not long. Maybe 10 or 15 years ago?" He replied.  
  
"It must have been him," Hermione said with a shrug. "Why was he so gloomy?" She asked curiously.  
  
It was the man's turn to shrug. "Only child perhaps? His parents were rather cold and distant; wrapped up in their own affairs and their ambitions for the boy. He was probably lonely, there were few people his parents considered good enough for their son to mix with."  
  
"He comes from an overly proud family," Hermione said pointedly.  
  
The man in the portrait bristled. "Why shouldn't we be proud? We are an ancient dynasty," he said haughtily.  
  
"So I keep being told," Hermione said wryly, tempted to roll her eyes.  
  
* "Young woman, this family is descended from the Moors in Africa whose descendants can be traced back to before recorded history. Even then, we were Princes of our race and our advanced culture brought civilization to Europe. Few throughout history have dared to oppose us. On the other side of the family, we can trace our bloodline back to the Scythians, Sarmatians and Amazons; all ancient inhabitants of Russia's southern steppes. These Mesopotamic, nomadic tribes were feared warriors and accomplished horsemen who warded off the mightiest rulers including Darius and Alexander. Our magical bloodline can be traced back to the royal family of Cordova and to the prince Colaxais, the son of Targitaus - a great supernatural being who founded the Scythian race," he said coldly, pride in every line of his posture. Well, that explains his dark colouring and hawkish features, Hermione thought with interest. Also, the family's potent magical legacy. "And what is your heritage?" He sneered.  
  
Honestly, Hermione thought. It's just like having a conversation with Snape. "I'm a witch with two Muggle parents," she said bluntly and without apology.  
  
The man's face went white. "Just like Hermatica," he whispered.  
  
Hermione sighed impatiently. "Who is Hermatica?" She snapped.  
  
He looked away, as though looking at her was suddenly painful. "I would have married her but her bloodline was completely contaminated by Muggle blood," he murmured, almost to himself. "My family would not allow it. We were ruling Princes, we had to marry within our class," he said almost pleading for understanding.  
  
"Dolt," was all Hermione had to say.  
  
He frowned at her. "She was a great deal more polite than you," he said sternly. Hermione felt like telling him to tell someone who cared. Really, this ancestor of Snape's had exactly the same effect on her that Snape himself did, she thought. "I want to see her again," he said, staring into space once more and ignoring Hermione rolling her eyes. "There was a portrait done but I haven't seen it," he mused. "It's not here."  
  
"I remember seeing some in the drawing rooms but I didn't look at any of them closely. Shall I have a look for you?" She asked, feeling generous. The look of sudden, desperate hope that glowed in his dark, shadowed eyes frightened her with its intensity.  
  
"Would you?" He said, staring down at her compellingly just like her own Snape did on occasion.  
  
She nodded and backed away. It freaked her, seeing this play of emotions over a face identical to Snape's. It made her heart ache strangely and she didn't like it.  
  
She re-traced her steps back to the main drawing room. She hunted on each wall, looking at each portrait of a woman carefully. Finally, she found a full-length portrait in one corner. Her eyes widened. Now she understood why he had called her by this woman's name. They were not identical but the similarity was a bit uncanny. "Are you Hermatica?" She asked. The woman in the portrait looked down at her and drew in her breath sharply.  
  
"Yes. Who are you? You look. you look."  
  
"Yes, we look alike, don't we?" Hermione said impatiently. "Hold on, I'm going to levitate you back to the main gallery. There's someone who wants to see you."  
  
"Alright but who are you?" She insisted, as Hermione floated her off the wall and down the hall.  
  
"Snape's ward," Hermione said shortly, concentrating on not dropping the priceless object.  
  
"The new master Snape?" She said thoughtfully, catching on instantly. "Poor man," she murmured. Hermione nearly dropped the painting.  
  
"Why poor?" She demanded irritably.  
  
Hermatica sighed. "Poor lonely, neglected boy." She sighed.  
  
"Yeah, poor little rich boy," Hermione said sarcastically.  
  
"He had no-one. He used to spend his days in the library reading on his own," she sighed again and looked wistful.  
  
Hermione suddenly had tears in her eyes and was very grateful for her friends who at least pulled her out of the library occasionally for some fun. As she came back into the drawing room, the man in the portrait watched anxiously as Hermione levitated the portrait over to him. "I found her," she announced. The way the two stared at each other transfixed Hermione. It gave her goosebumps. The similarities were too close. It was like watching Snape and herself in some other life. She cleared her throat slightly. "Do you want to be next to each other or opposite each other," she asked finally.  
  
"Next to each other. Then we can visit," the man demanded imperiously not taking his eyes off Hermatica.  
  
Hermione moved a picture of a grey haired man with Snape's hawkish nose further down the wall to make room for Hermatica's portrait and put her next to him on the wall. Immediately, he got up and moved into her frame. He was every bit as tall and slender as her own Snape, Hermione observed.  
  
They didn't say anything for a long time, merely looked at each other. Hermione began to feel a bit out of place and turned to go, and walked straight into Snape's chest. "Geez, do you always have to sneak around like a bloody cat?" Hermione complained, taking one step back and glaring up at him in the shadowy half light.  
  
He glanced over her head and frowned at the two portraits there. "You're a romantic, Hermione. His family killed her when they knew he loved her." He said harshly.  
  
"You mean, your family killed her." Hermione corrected. "Besides, it doesn't mean they didn't really love each other," she added. "Keeping up the family tradition, Professor?" She said pointedly, indicating his Death Eater robes.  
  
He ignored her dig at him. "It would have been a disaster if he'd married her," he rasped. "It couldn't be allowed."  
  
"Well, you've been well brain-washed," she snapped.  
  
By now the first Severus Snape and Hermatica were staring at them. "So you're the heir," the man said flatly. "I haven't seen you around here for years. The family home is going to ruin. No wonder the line has come to an end," he sneered, looking Snape up and down dismissively.  
  
Snape glared at him. It was peculiar to see the two identical men glowering at each other. "The only reason you could have founded the dynasty was because Hermatica was murdered," Snape argued, his black eyes narrowed.  
  
"It's sad to see how much intelligence has been lost to the bloodline," the man said contemptuously. "I conquered the land in Africa that would become our heritage and that gave us our wealth, and ruled it too but you and the entire Snape clan are descended from my murderous younger brother. His blood still tells, I see." His ancestor spat at him. "How dare you bring that filthy lot of Death Eaters to the family home? Not even your parents allowed it!"  
  
Snape stared at him incredulously. "But the family history. I was told that we were your descendents and that your brother was disowned."  
  
"He was disowned but his children were the only heirs." His ancestor said unequivocally. "I married but it was a marriage of alliance that produced no children."  
  
Snape's face was bloodless. "My whole family history is a lie? We're descended from a murderer?" He repeated, dazedly.  
  
"Yes, Death Eater." He said meaningfully, pulling Hermatica against him with one arm.  
  
Snape looked ill; very, very ill.  
  
"You need some sleep, Professor." Hermione said quietly. "Let's go back to my house. It's nearly morning." She took his arm firmly and led him to the fireplace at the other end of the room. Snape's ancestor had already turned back to Hermatica when she stepped into the fireplace.  
  
"Do you think they'll make it Severus?" Hermatica asked softly, at the other end of the room.  
  
"If one or the other doesn't get murdered, they just might." He replied, glancing down the room at the figures by the fireplace.  
  
"I hope so," Hermatica breathed.  
  
"Me too," he agreed.  
  
Once back at Hermione's house, Snape immediately went downstairs to his rooms without a word still looking sick. Hermione went to her rooms and after lying awake for awhile, finally slept.  
  
(*Information sourced from history sites on the internet - www.rispubs.com and www.ibiblio.org) 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Just another of my notes to readers - I believe that unless it's fantasy fiction, you're best not to write (in detail) what you don't know. In this chapter, I am writing about Hermione's past and I have drawn on my own experiences to do so. As such, I know my material here and I'm not just writing a lot of sensational stuff that I really know nothing about as a convenient plot device (although you will see that this chapter clears up a lot of mysteries about Hermione's animagus).  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Seventeen  
  
"And death shall be chosen rather than life by all the residue of them that remain of this evil family"  
  
Jeremiah 8:3  
  
Snape paced in front of the fire, once downstairs again. He felt exposed and hideously vulnerable, as though he suddenly had lost his skin and all his nerves were exposed to the air. He felt fragile, as though the merest breath of wind could shatter him.  
  
When he had come back after the Death Eaters' meeting, he remembered that he'd left the parchment lying out. He'd gone to destroy it only to find it missing. Immediately he'd gone upstairs to find Hermione's bedroom light on and that she was no-where to be found. He suspected immediately that when he had refused to take her to a Death Eaters' meeting, she had decided to follow him secretly if she could. It was just like her not to allow anyone to stand in her way. That damn Potter would have done the same thing in the same situation. He had always known that Potter would have a bad influence on her. He doubted it was something that the hopeless goody- two-shoes she'd been in first year would have done.  
  
He'd done a location charm over his house when he got back and sure enough, she was in the art gallery. He had been terrified by the fact that she couldn't have been wearing Harry's invisibility cloak at the time, otherwise the location charm wouldn't have worked. There could have still been Death Eaters lurking in the house in any number of places, it was foolhardy of her to have taken off the cloak.  
  
He'd been waiting to pounce on her and bawl her out for following him there but had been arrested by the sight of Hermione and him staring into each other's eyes. Or rather, Hermatica and his ancestor staring into each others' eyes but it amounted to the same thing. It was a profound shock and kept him silent in the shadows for a few minutes. The image sliced through him like a knife, burning itself into his brain.  
  
Before either Hermatica or his ancestor could reveal him, he had walked over to her and just at that moment she had turned to go. Rather than be intimidated or embarrassed by his presence, she'd been annoyed. It was so typical of her not to be cowed by him and so irritating when he could inspire fear in so many others.  
  
Then, he'd had to cope with the shocking revelation about his family. He had known Hermatica's story but had always been taught that her Muggle blood would have weakened the strong magical powers of his family even though she was actually a powerful witch. He had never realised just how much Hermione now looked like Hermatica because the first time he'd seen Hermione, she was a bushy-haired, big-toothed, flat-chested pre-adolescent. The change in her appearance as she grew and developed had been so gradual that he had never made the connection.  
  
He felt as though a large part of himself was crumbling and dissolving like dry sand. He didn't know who he was or what he believed anymore. He now found himself spying on the very group he had ardently believed in for so much of his life. His family history was a sham and he was descended from a murderer and now, these powerful and uncontrollable feelings for the Muggle-born Hermione - a girl nearly half his age. Seeing Hermatica and his ancestor together had finally brought it home. He had been forced to see what he deeply desired and didn't want to admit to when he saw the image of himself and Hermione staring raptly into each other's eyes.  
  
He felt dizzy. He needed sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning, Snape came upstairs to get some milk for his morning coffee before breakfast and got a glimpse of Hermione sitting in the lounge. He wouldn't have thought twice about it and would have continued on his way if he hadn't noticed the extreme stillness with which she sat. Silently, he crept closer to the doorway and carefully peered into the room from an angle where he could remain unseen.  
  
She wasn't doing anything. She wasn't reading (very unusual, he thought), she wasn't listening to music, she wasn't watching something she called a 'documentary' on TV, she wasn't talking to a friend on the phone or writing a note for her owl to take to Ron or Harry or one of the other dozens of friends she seemed to have. She just. sat. Motionless. Still. Silent. Sphinx-like. Un-natural.  
  
He began to grow anxious as he watched her. She hardly seemed to blink. He cleared his throat. No response. "Hermione?" She blinked and looked around at him.  
  
"What?" She said blankly, when he was silent.  
  
He frowned. "You were so still. I didn't know if you were okay," he said awkwardly, hardly believing the words were coming out of his own mouth.  
  
Hermione stared at him like he'd grown another head. Since when had Snape voluntarily and spontaneously expressed concern for her welfare? "I'm fine," she said.  
  
His frown grew deeper. "No, you're not. Hermione, what is it? Why are you always so. so." He struggled for a word.  
  
"Difficult to read?" She supplied succinctly.  
  
He stared at her. "Yes but more. I thought at the beginning you were being strong about your parents' death but that's not it, is it?" His mind was racing. Pieces of the puzzle named 'Hermione' were coming together. "It's not really strength, is it Hermione?" He said challengingly, coming into the room. "What you really are is shut down."  
  
"You can talk," Hermione said rudely.  
  
It was like a slap across the face. Why did she see him so clearly when he struggled so much to understand her? It deeply frustrated him because it gave her the upper hand. "We're not talking about me for once, Hermione. We're talking about you." He came and sat on an armchair near the couch she was sitting on. His face was unreadable as he examined hers. She looked back, unmoved. "Why can't you grieve for your parents, Hermione? It's more than the fact they were perfectionists and demanding, isn't it?" He asked in a low voice.  
  
Hermione wanted to tell him to stop minding her business but as he had told her so much of his own past, she felt this was unfair. Reluctantly, she nodded. "And its got something to do with this mysterious sister, hasn't it?" He probed.  
  
She nodded again. He waited.  
  
"My father," she began then stopped and sighed. "He did something to my sister. I don't know exactly what." She shrugged. "It was sexual but I don't know how much or how often or how far he went," she said, looking away from him.  
  
Snape looked horrified. Rape and sexual perversion was rife amongst the Death Eaters but incest was taboo even for them. Hermione took in his reaction tiredly. "And you?" He asked anxiously. "Did he. Did he.?"  
  
"No. I was still little - not old enough to be attractive in that way to him. Once the family knew, I was protected." She explained frankly, her face impassive. Snape nodded, secretly relieved. "Mum didn't really do anything other than make sure we were never alone with him again. Up until the day he died, he called my sister a liar but she wasn't lying. I knew from the time I was tiny that there was something wrong with my father."  
  
Snape was flummoxed. It was so much worse than he expected. Now that Hermione had started, she seemed unable to stop. "He was mean in other ways too. He was violent; physically violent and emotionally violent." Snape winced. "He was a bully and a tyrant, and mean with his money although he had a lot of it. He was cruel just because he could be and we were too little to fight back. We were always tip-toeing around him. I loved being at Hogwarts," she sighed. "I was away from it all."  
  
"And your Muggle sister got out as soon as she could," Snape concluded.  
  
"Yes. Into a violent marriage," she replied flatly. Snape winced again.  
  
"My sister and I used to joke that when Dad died, we'd both wear a 'Life. Be In It' t-shirt to the funeral." She laughed weakly.  
  
"I wondered about the red outfit at the funeral," Snape said wryly.  
  
"A concession. Wasn't MacGonagall horrified?" She giggled weakly.  
  
"I wondered why your sister didn't come to the funeral," he admitted. All in all, it had been a strange service, he pondered.  
  
"I haven't seen her for years. While I was at Hogwarts, Mum finally decided to divorce Dad. Of course, he made her life hell about it. He no longer loved her - if he's capable of really loving anyone other than himself - but he enjoyed having her to tyrannise over and make miserable. In the end, they both died before Mum had a chance to get to a solicitor and get the paperwork underway," she said bitterly.  
  
"And your sister wanted no part of it?" Snape guessed.  
  
She nodded. "She never rang and when Mum rang her, she'd make excuses to get off the phone. She cut off as much contact as she could. It hurt Mum's feelings deeply. Of course, Dad was happy to cut my sister out of the will because she was such a 'liar'," she said sarcastically.  
  
"You don't want to share the inheritance now?" He asked.  
  
"The will forbids it, remember? I'd lose my inheritance if I gave her any of it. Besides, I earned it. I was the one here putting up with their crap and constant fighting. I was the mediator and the go-between and the pawn," she said, her voice hard. "She was well out of it. Anyway, she and her husband have plenty of money - they don't need more."  
  
Snape tended to agree with her view of things. "Have you ever spoken to anyone about all this?" He asked quietly.  
  
She shook her head. "Who wants to hear it?" She asked with a shrug. "Harry doesn't want to know that having parents isn't all it's cracked up to be. Ron wouldn't cope well with it. He'd be shocked and so would Ginny. I don't feel close enough to the others, much as I love them. Besides," she hesitated. "I'm ashamed of my family. I don't want people to know." She crossed her arms defensively and looked away.  
  
"They're big secrets to carry alone," Snape said quietly.  
  
"You can talk!" She said again. His face tightened. He sat back in the armchair and contemplated what she'd told him. What a start in life! To be exposed to so much evil for so long while still so young..  
  
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. "Hermione," he said urgently. "Do you remember what Dumbledore said about the black unicorn?"  
  
She looked at him with a puzzled expression. "The black unicorn is a normal unicorn that was tainted by long exposure to evil at a young age. That's why your animagus is a black unicorn, Hermione! You were exposed to the worst kind of evil from the time you were a baby. For the first 17 years of your life, you were exposed to it."  
  
Hermione frowned. It was true that her father was the most evil person she'd ever known. Her father made the Death Eaters look like rank amateurs and Snape look like an angel. She nodded. "It's true. It does explain it," she conceded. The thought obviously did not make her happy. "At least now I know how I ended up a dark creature," she sighed bitterly.  
  
"Your past has been a tragedy, Hermione." Snape said seriously. "But it's left you with a great gift too."  
  
"A gift I have to give up in order to use," she reminded him.  
  
"I meant the gift of the unicorn's magical powers, not that of destroying evil by absorbing it," he said sharply. "You must never use that particular gift, Hermione."  
  
"It's mine to use," she said stubbornly.  
  
"It's not worth it," he hissed, urgently.  
  
She shrugged. "The bottom line is, that I'm a dark and cursed creature and the only thing left to me is being useful in that way," she said with finality.  
  
"What do you mean?" He asked with a heavy frown.  
  
"Severus, my past has left me with nothing; no wishes, no dream, no ambitions, no desire to do anything. I do what others expect so they won't ask too many questions or probe too deeply but I'm just going through the motions. I don't care about anything, really." Her face was frighteningly blank. "Maybe by stopping Voldemort, my life will finally mean something."  
  
"What about your career? What about falling in love and getting married and having children?" Snape argued forcefully, feeling something cold and heavy lodge itself in his chest.  
  
"What about them?" She shrugged. "I don't care about any of that." She said restlessly.  
  
What about me? Snape wanted to yell at her, at the same time shocked by the violence of his own reaction. Of course she didn't want to live for him; it was a ridiculous notion. "You need to find a reason to keep your human life, Hermione," he said stiffly.  
  
What's it to you? She wanted to snap but didn't. "I've got to do some study," she said finally and got up to go to her computer room.  
  
"Hold on," Snape said. "I still haven't spoken to you about last night."  
  
She flopped back down on the couch with a long-suffering sigh. "What about last night? Apart from the fact that your ancestor doesn't have a very high opinion of you," Hermione observed pointedly.  
  
"What the hell were you doing following me to a Death Eaters' meeting after I expressly forbid you to do so?" He demanded, his black eyes narrowing.  
  
"You didn't forbid me. You just told me you've never take me to one," she argued logically.  
  
"Don't split hairs, Hermione. You knew exactly what I meant and you know why I told you not to go," Snape said impatiently.  
  
"I didn't get discovered did I?" She said cockily.  
  
"Not this time, no. You were just bloody lucky, that's all." Snape spat.  
  
"And I can be lucky again," she reasoned lightly.  
  
"Hermione! You are not to attend one of those meetings ever again! I am your guardian, I am responsible for you and I am telling you that I forbid you to go." He said, getting up and towering over her and glowering down at her. She shrugged and didn't answer. "It's that damn Potter's influence. He never had any respect for rules or for those trying to protect him and he's made you the same way!" He accused.  
  
"Don't blame Harry for my behaviour!" She said irritably. "You really are jealous of him, aren't you? Why?"  
  
Snape fumed. "I am not jealous of that skinny, blind, little runt!" He snapped. "I just don't like the influence he has on you."  
  
"Oh! So, you just don't like me having friends." Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She knew Snape hated it when she rolled her eyes.  
  
Snape gave up. It wasn't strictly true. He just didn't want Hermione having Harry for a friend. He suspected that Harry's feelings for Hermione had once been more than pure friendship and even though Potter now seemed very happy with Ginny, Snape now felt territorial about Hermione being friends with him. With a start he realised that Hermione was right. He was jealous of Potter, just not in the way that she thought.  
  
"Now you're being silly, Hermione." Was all he said.  
  
"Can I go and study now?" She asked innocently. He nodded without looking at her, absorbed in all these new and unpleasant revelations about his feelings. "By the way, what kind of a name is Hermatica?" She asked inconsequentially as she left the room.  
  
Snape mused that people with names like 'Hermione' were really not in a position to cast aspersions on other people's strange names. Then Snape remembered that she had called him by his first name for the first time that day and wondered what that meant. 


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen  
  
"Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame." Song of Solomon 8:6  
  
It was less than ten days to Hermione's 18th birthday. She'd received an owl from Harry a few days ago, asking her if he could celebrate her birthday with her a weekend early as the Chudley Canons were playing in Wales the weekend of her actual birthday. He suggested Ron come along too 'so it could be just like old times when us three snuck around Hogwarts breaking the rules'.  
  
Hermione grinned as she read Harry's note. Although Harry was busy with his up-and-coming Quidditch career and Ginny, and Ron was at the Auror's Academy and spent most of his free time with Padma, she still heard from 'her boys' very regularly. Especially during this strange and difficult time with her parents gone and Snape a dark presence in the day-to-day of her life, they had been particularly kind and attentive. She'd seen all of her friends regularly at Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley over the months since leaving Hogwarts and now saw many of them still at Hogsbridge during the day. As fun and relaxing as these times were, they were quite over- shadowed by her discoveries about her animagus, her guardian and the knowledge of how she could stop Voldemort.  
  
It had also been eclipsed by her own emotional state which she still did not understand. Most days she felt unnaturally calm but she knew it was not real calm. As Snape had made her realise, what she really was was completely shut down emotionally. Occasionally her emotions erupted with volcanic force like the two nights she'd transformed into the black unicorn and the night she'd pegged books at Snape. In reality, she was always in a dangerous state of tension, ready to explode.  
  
And then there was Snape. What the hell effect did he have on her, anyway? Why did his touch make her burst into life? Almost burst into flames, really. None of the boys she'd kissed at Hogwarts had had that effect. It was ridiculous. He'd hated her for seven solid years and never made any secret of it but now, he kissed her and she wanted to wrap herself around him and. and.. her face burned. If it was anyone else, she'd happily indulge in fantasies of what she'd like to do to him and with him but she had to face him every day still for over a week. Better to quash those thoughts immediately. Besides, although he'd made it graphically clear that he physically desired her there was no indication that he felt anything for her other than desire; desire which he seemed to have subsequently turned off like a tap - quite easily too. If he still desired her, would she be happy just to have a fling with him anyway even if he was up for it once he was no longer her guardian? She didn't know. She had no experience of these things to know how she'd cope in that situation.  
  
She couldn't name her own feelings for him anyway. She certainly cared about his well-being and the thought of him being hurt or killed by the Death Eaters make her blood run cold. She suspected she knew more about him than most people but what did that count for? Their situation was intimate - uncomfortably so at times. Maybe that accounted for his unusual openness with her? Well, openness for him anyway, she qualified.  
  
One thing she did know for certain, given half a chance she'd definitely jump him. She grinned to herself. She'd just have to deal with the fall out afterwards, she decided.  
  
* * *  
  
When Snape came upstairs for breakfast he saw Harry's note next to her plate with the Chudley Canons logo on it. "Another letter from your little boyfriend?" He sneered. "Can't lave you alone for two minutes, can he?"  
  
Hermione simply gave him a 'look' as she forked scrambled egg into her mouth. "We're going out Saturday night. Probably a pub crawl between Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley," she informed him like a dutiful ward once she'd finished chewing.  
  
"You won't be of age yet," Snape said with a frown, mechanically eating his own eggs. "You can't drink."  
  
"I hardly think the pub keepers are going to be worried about it one week before my birthday," Hermione said truthfully.  
  
Snape's mouth tightened but he didn't argue as he knew she was right. "It is just your little boyfriend?" He asked obnoxiously.  
  
"If you're referring to Harry, then no. Ron is coming too," she said smartly.  
  
"Ah! Your other little boyfriend who also won't leave you alone for two minutes," Snape said disdainfully. Hermione just gave him another look which Snape completely ignored. "Is anyone else going?" He drawled.  
  
"Nope. Just us," Hermione said cheerfully, buttering some toast.  
  
Snape frowned. "Their girlfriends aren't going?" He probed.  
  
"Nope. It'll be just us. Just like the old days," she replied, checking to see if she could fit anymore jam onto her toast.  
  
"How nice. The three of you can go on a pub crawl and save the world again," he sneered.  
  
Hermione suddenly got angry. "Oh sod off! You're just pissed because Harry got that Order of Merlin - First Class when he graduated from Hogwarts," she said maliciously.  
  
Snape bristled. "You seem determined to have me be jealous of Potter," he spat. "Have you ever thought that maybe he's jealous about you? Maybe he's jealous that you care more about your study and career than about him?"  
  
Hermione looked at him blankly as though he'd gone mad. "Harry loves Ginny, so why would he be jealous about me and my study?" She said simply.  
  
Snape made a dismissive noise. "Typical, simplistic, Gryffindor thinking," he said contemptuously. "I'm sure he does care about Ginny but maybe she was a consolation prize because you preferred books?"  
  
"Next you'll be suggesting Ron is secretly in love with me too!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. Snape was meaningfully silent. "Oh, for goodness sake! Surely not!" Hermione said when she realised what his silence meant. "According to you then, the whole of bloody Hogwarts was in love with me! Hey, why stop at Hogwarts? The whole of Hogsmeade too! Maybe all of wizarding England?" She was about to go on when Snape hissed,  
  
"Shut up! You're not very observant are you? Did either of them ask you out while you were at Hogwarts?" He asked sharply.  
  
"Yes, they both did. More than once but that doesn't mean that they were in love.."  
  
"Quiet!" He commanded, interrupting her again. "I'm sure that Harry cares about Ginny and Ron about Padma but that doesn't prevent them having strong feelings for you," he argued.  
  
"No but you're complicating something very simple. Harry loves Ginny. Ron loves Padma. I love both Harry and Ron, and they love me too - but only as friends!" She stressed.  
  
"You have to over-simplify everything, don't you?" He said with disgust.  
  
"And you have to obscure everything, don't you? Get it through your head! Harry and Ron are not in love with me and if they ever were, it no longer matters," she said emphatically.  
  
"Perhaps but it wouldn't take much to re-ignite their feelings. Maybe like a little alcohol?" He said insinuatingly.  
  
Hermione snatched up Harry's letter and marched to her room. She'd had quite enough of Severus Snape for one day!  
  
Snape stared at the cold, rubbery eggs left on his plate. His stomach was churning with sick anxiety. Hermione, Harry, Ron and alcohol were a bad combination to his mind. He didn't want either of those two touching Hermione or even thinking about her in anything but a platonic way. His lean mouth twitched. A couple of 18-year-old hotheads with an attractive girl like Hermione was a recipe for disaster. He knew what teen-age boys were like - add alcohol to the hormones and explosions were guaranteed. Those two cared about her, they'd protect her from other predatory males but he had grave doubts about their own predatory instincts. He suddenly felt nauseous.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione looked at herself in the mirror and smiled at what she saw. She was wearing a red, tartan mini-skirt with black tights and high-heeled oxfords. The skirt wasn't too short on her, as she wasn't very tall. It came to mid-thigh and looked quite respectable but combined with the tight cashmere crop top and denim jacket, she knew she looked her best. She wore her hair out and lots of red lipstick, just because she loved it.  
  
Harry and Ron were coming round to her place and they were all leaving from there together. Just as she was putting a few things in a small handbag, the doorbell rang. She skipped happily down the stairs to greet her boys and met Snape in the foyer, going to answer the door. He was hoping that the sight of him glowering at them might put a dampner on Ron and Harry's enthusiasm. Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously when he saw what she was wearing. Hermione grinned at him cheerfully and pushed past him to get to the door.  
  
"Hello!" She said excitedly, as she let them in.  
  
Ron and Harry's eyes widened. They knew Hermione was attractive but they'd never seen her dressed quite like that. "Er. wow, Hermione. You look great," Harry said with a lop-sided grin before giving her a hug.  
  
"Yeah, Hermione. You look. you look. really good!" Ron chimed in sounding a bit lost for words, also giving her a hug.  
  
"Thanks," Hermione said with a complacent grin. She turned to go back up the stairs with Ron and Harry when Snape blocked her path.  
  
"Hermione," he said smoothly. "I don't think it's wise to go out in an outfit like that, do you?"  
  
Hermione snorted. "There is nothing wrong with what I'm wearing. I mean, I'm covered from head to toe, really." She argued. Ron and Harry nodded earnestly in agreement.  
  
"Hermione, you know exactly what I mean. I think you should get changed," he said sternly.  
  
"Oh lay off. You know there's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing. Some girls wear far shorter skirts and far less clothes than I am!" She retorted.  
  
"Yes, they do." Ron sighed dreamily. Hermione looked at him with amusement and Snape glared.  
  
"Hermione, there is no need to go out on a pub crawl with your little friends looking like a hooker," Snape said coldly, making the word 'friends' sound like an insult.  
  
"Well, I guess you'd know all about hookers," Hermione said with pure spite, not really believing a word of it. Her feelings were hurt and she knew how to fight dirty. "Besides, I'm not dressed like one - Daddy!" She said pointedly. That last jibe did the trick. Snape backed down immediately and stalked through to his rooms still glowering. Ron and Harry just stared at her. "What?" She said to them innocently, then turned and led them upstairs to the fireplace they were using to get to Diagon Alley.  
  
It was a very long night that passed very quickly. Ron and Harry were in high spirits, as Harry had just found out that day that he'd been offered a place on the National Quidditch team for the World Cup that year. Hermione hugged him tight when she found out and they jumped up and down in a circle, hanging onto each other excitedly like kids in a playground.  
  
After that, the course was set and they proceeded to get very merrily drunk very quickly. They danced together all night and stayed in a tight group. They bumped into George and Pandora at the Three Broomsticks later that night once they'd moved their pub crawl to Hogsmeade, and the five of them took over most of the tiny dance floor for hours. Finally, at around 3am Hermione was falling asleep against Harry, and George and Pandora had headed home an hour before.  
  
"C'mon 'Mione. It's time to go home. You're nearly asleep," Harry said gently, nudging her.  
  
"Hmmm..mmm," was all the reply he got. "I'm so proud of you!" She said again and gave him a hug. Harry grinned and then a minute later pulled her to her feet.  
  
"I don't think she's going to make it via floo," Harry said to Ron with amusement. "We'd better get the night bus."  
  
Ron nodded sleepily in agreement and they headed outside to hail the bus. It appeared out of no-where two minutes later, it's headlights cutting through the darkest time of night and blinding the three friends. Several light posts jumped out of its way as it screeched up to the curb and lurched to a halt. They clambered aboard and Harry paid for the tickets. It wasn't the usual driver with the bad case of acne. This driver was a portly gentleman with a round face and dark hair and a Manchester accent.  
  
They all sat on one bed and giggled as the bus screeched off again. That time of the morning there was only two or three other passengers. A hag sat quietly in one corner, knitting something out of what looked like bright green smoke. An ancient looking, white haired gentleman in eccentric looking robes was in a bed behind them, smoking a pipe of something rather foul smelling that definitely was not tobacco. Another wizard, not much older than they were was sitting near the driver. He was wearing a pointed wizards hat in purple with matching robes and sat bolt upright the entire time, leaning on an elegant ebony and silver cane. He would be quite handsome, Hermione thought hazily, if he didn't have such a severe expression on his face.  
  
By the time the night bus had dropped off the other passengers, it was close to 4am. "Snape is gonna be pissed!" Hermione said gleefully to the boys, the alcohol wearing off as she sipped from a bottle of water Harry had given her when they got on the bus.  
  
"Yes, he is." Harry said, without hesitation. Then grinned too. Ron grinned back at them both.  
  
After the bus had listed to a halt outside Hermione's house, several dustbins jumping out of the way first, they climbed off gratefully. An hour on the night bus when you're drunk was not good for one's sense of well-being, Hermione decided. They tripped happily up to the front door, Hermione in the middle with her arms around each boy's necks and both boys with one arm around her waist. They playfully tried to step on each other's toes and giggled furiously. After Hermione discovered she couldn't unlock the door with her key, Harry gently took it from her and unlocked it himself. That set them all off giggling again.  
  
Snape, who had been awake and paranoid the whole night imagining all sort of unlikely things that the trio were up to could hear them from his rooms. He sighed deeply in disgust when he heard the giggles but felt relieved that Hermione was finally home. He heard them come in, still giggling loudly.  
  
"Shhhhhh! You'll wake up Snape!" Hermione said loudly then started giggling madly again. Ron and Harry joined in. They proceeded to thunder up the stairs.  
  
"I've got to go 'Mione," Harry said regretfully. "I'll have to try and get in a few hours sleep before practise this afternoon."  
  
"I'd better go too," Ron said, through a huge yawn.  
  
"Okay," Hermione said amiably and gave them both a big hug before they disappeared through the fireplace, still yelling "bye" and "love you 'Mione!" as they went.  
  
"Men!" She said after they'd gone. "They spend the night with you then leave just before dawn!" She sniggered to herself, impressing herself with her own wit when she was too drunk to know how silly she sounded.  
  
Suddenly she realised she didn't have her handbag on her. "Great!" She said to herself and thumped down the stairs to look for it. Snape was in the foyer looking awful. "You look awful," she commented, spotting her bag on the floor where she must have dropped it.  
  
"So do you!" He said coolly, examining her from top to toe. She poked out her tongue at him. She was too drunk to care how she looked and she'd had too good a time for Snape to put her in a bad mood.  
  
"Well, I have an excuse! I've been up all night. What's your excuse?" She said reasonably.  
  
"And you're drunk," he added pointedly, ignoring her question. She did look worse for wear, he acknowledged. Her red lipstick had worn off although it had stained her lips a bright red. Her eye make-up was a bit smudged and she looked pale.  
  
Hermione climbed halfway up the stairs and sat down, resting her head on the middle landing and proceeded to go to sleep.  
  
"You can't go to sleep there!" Snape said sharply.  
  
"Why not? It's my house!" She pointed out sleepily and yawned so wide that Snape was astonished.  
  
"Hermione, be sensible and go to your room," he commanded, frowning.  
  
"Come over here and make me, why don't you?" She challenged in a very sleepy, unconvincing way.  
  
Snape had very vivid memories of what had happened the last time she'd thrown down that particular gauntlet and he wasn't even going to go there again. "Hermione, stop behaving like a baby!" He said in his best school teacher voice.  
  
"Go to hell!" She said amiably.  
  
He marched up the stairs to her and firmly pulled her upright by one arm. "C'mon, up you get!" He pulled her to her feet and she quite deliberately leaned against him. Snape suddenly stopped breathing. She smiled at him, daring him to kiss her. Snape closed his eyes for a second and then tugged her up the rest of the stairs.  
  
She leant heavily on him, smiling broadly to herself. Quite deliberately, she put one arm around him in a pretence of bracing herself against him. She staggered a bit too, just for fun. He smelled and felt wonderful. She pressed herself against him harder. Her grin grew bigger which fortunately Snape couldn't see because of the hair falling in her face.  
  
Snape meanwhile, was beginning to feel slightly desperate. She was hugging him again! He could smell her hair and perfume. His face began to burn and he carefully controlled his breathing. All he wanted to do. he deliberately squashed the thought. If he started kissing her, he wouldn't stop. Besides, he knew very well that she was drunk and that was the only reason she was being so provocative. By the time she'd slept this off, she wouldn't even remember this incident.  
  
Finally he dragged her to her room and shoved her onto her bed, feeling relieved. She lay there looking at him, a perfectly innocent expression on her face which Snape had serious doubts about.  
  
"Are you going to tuck me in, Sir?" She teased and curled up on one side.  
  
"Just sleep it off, you silly girl." He said, trying to sound stern but really only sounding a bit breathless. She laughed as he fled from the room, colour staining his sharp cheekbones.  
  
When he got back to his rooms he was thankful that there was only a week left until he was freed of his role as guardian. Hermione had too powerful an effect on his emotions nowadays and the sexual temptation was nearly unbearable, particularly when she behaved in such a provocative way. He sat on the edge of his bed as his legs felt suddenly unsteady. He didn't know what to do. He was at a loss. He felt pulled in ten different directions. He knew he couldn't count her behaviour in a drunken state as any indication that she wanted him as a lover, particularly taking into account their very significant age difference but. He didn't trust himself not to give in to the temptation should that offer come his way again once he was no longer her guardian. If it ever came his way again.  
  
On one hand, he didn't see anything wrong in getting involved with Hermione when she came of age should she want it. On the other, she was vulnerable and had been in a bad place emotionally for the entire time they had been thrown together, and maybe he would be taking advantage of her should she decide she wanted him? Then there was his own feelings on the matter and he doubted he would have the strength to push her away for her own good should she decide she wanted him in any way at all. Tiredly he rubbed one eye with the heel of one slender hand. He needed to sleep. Maybe everything would be clearer when he woke up. 


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen  
  
"How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!"  
  
Isaiah 14:12  
  
And he said unto them, I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven. Luke 10:18 "Did I fear a great multitude, or did the contempt of families terrify me, that I kept silence, and went not out of the door?" Job 31:34  
  
Nothing became clearer over the next week to Snape except that this strange period in his life was drawing to a close. Hermione was busy with plans for her 18th birthday party with all her friends and with her study. He felt odd most of the time. As though time was passing with the surrealistic slowness that seemed to precede momentous events.  
  
Hermione was busy but she felt strangely still as well, as though waiting for something but she hardly knew what. It was a though there was a still pool of expectancy within her untouched by the rush of her days. She had conveniently pretended to forget her provocative behaviour towards Snape when she had been tipsy. After all, boys pulled that stunt all the time so why shouldn't she? She hadn't spent much time with Snape over the past week anyway. Most of her day was spent on campus and her evenings in her study or with friends. She couldn't escape this strange feeling of 'waiting' though.  
  
What she was waiting for came for her two mornings before her birthday. As she was about to floo her way to Hogsbridge campus, she noticed a dark shape flit past the window heading downwards. She recognised Snape's black owl immediately and she also knew what it meant.  
  
She bit her lip as she thought. There was no way Snape would be so careless as to leave the parchment lying around for her to find this time. She pondered for a while and then remembered Harry's Marauder's Map. If a map like that existed of Hogwarts, there must be some kind of spell connected to it that she could put on almost any map to locate people within a grid. Without hesitation she got up, took a pinch of floo and said, "Hogsbridge library."  
  
It didn't take Hermione long to find what she was looking for. Then again, it rarely did. If the information was there to be found, Hermione was sure to find it very quickly. After all, she was experienced at finding her way around a library!  
  
Carefully she enchanted a quill to copy out the information she needed while she hunted out some maps of Britain, especially the greater London area. Finally, loaded down with information she went home to begin the spell.  
  
By lunchtime, she had enchanted a small map of Northern Britain and carefully looked it over. It was covered with tiny dots, some of which were moving slowly over it. When she looked closely, she could see the individuals clearly. It had worked! Now all she had to do was enchant all the other maps of the different parts of Britain and then keep an eye on Snape for the rest of the day.  
  
Snape didn't go far from the house that day. He'd been in a funny mood over breakfast, she'd noticed; even more uncommunicative than usual. He wasn't in the garden much either, just brief periods while drinking a cup of coffee or watering a rose bush. When evening fell, they had dinner together but once more Snape was abnormally silent; even for him. Hermione guessed he was not looking forward to the Death Eaters meeting later that night. After all, unless he was able to please Voldemort again, chances are he would be tortured once more. The thought made her deeply angry and so she was quiet as well.  
  
Much later that night, Hermione heard Snape moving around downstairs and figured his arm would be burning right about now. She pulled out the maps that she had enchanted earlier and muttered a charm over the dot that represented Snape to make him stand out on the maps. Naturally, at that time the maps showed that he was still in the house with her.  
  
But not for long. It took her a couple of minutes to relocate his dot on a detailed map of the Northern Districts. They were obviously meeting somewhere in the North York Moors. Ironically enough, they were meeting just outside a place called Ravenscar near the coast.  
  
Quickly Hermione looked up her directory of English wizarding towns in her Altas of the Wizarding World. Sure enough, there was a small wizarding town near Ravenscar called Raven's Hollow. She checked her map of the floo network and there was a small pub called The Tipsy Toad in Raven's Hollow on the network. Grabbing Harry's invisibility cloak, she made her way to the fireplace and wished she were old enough to get her apparating license.  
  
She arrived via floo in the cloak. She didn't want to be seen as she didn't know Raven's Hollow and whether or not it was a Death Eater's hang out. Most of the Death Eaters didn't know who she was or that she was Snape's ward but it was better to be safe than sorry. Silently she slipped out of the fireplace and out through the door, following a couple of suspicious looking characters.  
  
Ravenscar was just North East of Raven's Hollow, less than a half hour walk but it was over rough ground so it took her longer to get there. She followed the roads that branched off the A171-Whitby to Scarborough. Ravenscar really was tiny, Hermione mused. It had one main road and two smaller streets that crossed the main road both ways. It was right on the coast on the North Sea and a fierce and cold wind blew in from the Arctic. Hermione was grateful for her cloak.  
  
As she suspected, the meeting was slightly outside the small town and away from the trivial number of locals slightly further North and closer to the coast. She muttered a small location charm and got a reading of a large gathering of wizards in order to pinpoint them.  
  
She could hear Voldemort speaking as she silently approached.  
  
*"It is a hard, tough task which demands the commitment of the whole person without regard to any difficulties that may arise. You will be given details by in due time. Those taking part will be informed at the appropriate time. You have to maintain the strictest silence about this order, even amongst yourselves. The Muggle-borns are the eternal enemies of the purebloods and must be exterminated. All Muggle-borns we can reach now, during this time, are to be exterminated without exception. If we do not succeed in destroying the biological basis of the Muggle-born wizard, some day they will annihilate the purebloods and our great magical strength.  
  
** "The Muggle-born is the ferment of the decomposition of people. This means that it is in the nature of the Muggle-born to contaminate and weaken because he lacks altogether any idea of working for the common good. He possesses certain characteristics given to him by nature and he never can rid himself of those characteristics. The Muggle-born is harmful to us.  
  
*** "I believe, my friends, that you know me well enough to realize that I am not a bloodthirsty wizard nor a wizard who takes pleasure or finds sport in the harsher things he must do. On the other hand, I have strong nerves and a great sense of duty - if I do say so myself - and when I recognize the necessity to do something, I will do it unflinchingly. As to the Muggle- born women and children, I did not believe I had a right to let these children grow up to become avengers who would kill our fathers and grandchildren. That, I thought, would be cowardly. Thus the problem was solved without half-measures. At this time -- it is one of those things peculiar to this campaign - we are taking as many male Muggle-borns from England to our camps to build underground laboratories, and will later take yet more. Not one of them will ever come within the field of vision of the pureblood people. I am convinced that things would look bleak for the purebloods if we had not resolved the Muggle-born problem there, if, for example, the camps North of Gillamoor or the other West of Callington were still in existence." As Hermione approached, her ears pricked up to hear that Voldemort was holding prisoners in new underground camps. So they are not dead yet, Hermione thought anxiously. There is still time to save them.  
  
Hermione had badly miscalculated. She made her way over the final rise to get to the gathering in a large hollow but found out the hard way that this meeting had been protected by charms unlike the last one. As she looked down over the hollow lit eerily with dim green lights, she found herself flanked by two very large Death Eaters.  
  
"You can take off that invisibility cloak. We know you're there," one of them said in a low voice. Hermione's knees turned to water. Sprung, she thought.  
  
****"Fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake."  
  
She refused to take off her cloak and the hood was pulled roughly back off her hair. They didn't recognise her.  
  
"Who are you?" The first man asked, his deep voice muffled by the mask. She didn't bother replying. "Oh, a stubborn one. Well, you won't be stubborn for long once you've met Voldemort." She still said nothing, clenching her jaw to stop her teeth chattering. She looked out over the assembly below her in the hollow. It held roughly the same number as the meeting at Snape's family mansion. Voldemort was still talking and no-one in the assembly had noticed her yet.  
  
"What were you doing here anyway - a young girl like you?" The second man asked suspiciously, in a less deep voice and with a distinct London accent.  
  
She didn't even look at him. By now, both men had taken each of her arms. They were obviously waiting until Voldemort finished speaking to hand her over. Of course, she couldn't tell which of the Death Eaters below was Snape. She was glad he didn't know yet that she was here but he'd know soon enough.  
  
**** "Therefore snares are round about thee, and sudden fear troubleth thee."  
  
She was having problems breathing normally as her fear deepened. At best, she would be taken to one of these underground camps and tortured with their 'experiments' for a very long time. At worst, she would be killed instantly. She felt icy cold and as though she was floating outside her own body. The scene before her looked surrealistic and suddenly seemed to make no sense to her. She swayed on her feet. Time slowed down strangely.  
  
"Hey, stay upright," the first man said distantly, tugging on her arm.  
  
Voldemort's voice stopped for a few moments. "Bring the girl," he said suddenly into the silence. Harry's cloak slipped the rest of the way off as the two thugs led her to Voldemort. He was even uglier than she remembered.  
  
Voldemort examined her closely. "You look familiar," he hissed. Hermione stayed silent.  
  
****"Fear took hold upon [me] there, and pain, as of a woman in travail"  
  
"I know you! You're a close friend of Potter," he said slowly, his red eyes boring into her.  
  
Hermione suddenly started out of the morass of fear she had been sinking into. She could feel something familiar yet foreign taking hold. Her breathing quickened as a restlessness rose within her, as relentless as the tide and fierce as a storm.  
  
Snape's nails were digging into his palms until they drew blood. He was too terrified of what Voldemort was going to do to her to even feel angry with her for disobeying him, right then. He couldn't say a word or do anything sudden or unconsidered - it could guarantee rather than prevent her death if it was the wrong thing. Desperately he tried to think of a plan but his mind was numb with horror and fear.  
  
"Snape," Voldemort hissed. Snape's stomach turned to ice. Did he know? Snape wondered. "Didn't you teach this girl at that infernal Hogwarts for seven years and haven't you been appointed as her guardian by that fool Dumbledore?"  
  
Snape came forward, automatically pulling off his mask and hoping his face didn't betray him. He knelt briefly to Voldemort then turned and pretended to examine Hermione. His face was carefully neutral and impassive as he did so. I can't lie about it, he thought anxiously. Voldemort was not stupid. "Yes, my Lord. This is Hermione, my ward and Potter's friend." He said coldly.  
  
Voldemort hissed through his teeth. "Stupid girl! Did you think you could carry information on the Death Eaters back to Potter? Even if you had succeeded, what would he have done with it? All he's good at is saving his own skin," Voldemort sneered.  
  
Hermione glanced up at Voldemort and looked him dead in the eye, all her loathing and hatred for everything he stood for suddenly written clear upon her face. "I suppose you would see it that way, considering every time the two of you meet you come off the worse of the confrontation," Hermione sneered. "I wonder what your precious Death Eaters make of that little fact."  
  
Voldemort's eyes glowed fiercely down at her in rage. "How dare you! You're nothing but a filthy mudblood! I know your background. You don't even deserve to be part of the wizarding community," he spat at her.  
  
"That's your opinion," Hermione said smartly. If he was going to kill her, at least she was going to have her say first. "You're nothing but a pathetic has-been that was defeated by a baby!"  
  
Snape listened to her in despair. She would not be allowed to live after those insults. He desperately tried to think of a way of turning the situation around.  
  
Voldemort was apoplectic. "You filthy mudblood whore! You won't live to see the sun! I'm sorry Snape but I'm going to have to deprive you of your little ward," he raged like a beast. Voldemort raised his wand, a vicious look on his face.  
  
Then he slowly lowered it again.  
  
Because the girl was transforming.  
  
Into a black unicorn.  
  
Voldemort turned a sickly yellow grey as the magnificent beast reared before him, its ebony hooves flashing in the eerie green light. Before Voldemort could raise his wand again, the unicorn wheeled around, came down on all fours and turned one molten eye on him. The wizard froze. The two stared at each other. The beast focused on its prey, its powerful magic keeping him easily within its control.  
  
Once again, Snape felt as though time had slowed down to a mere trickle. Feeling as though he was moving underwater, he took his wand out of his robes. He saw the unicorn lower its horn, its eye still fixed on its quarry. The creature charged, as graceful and liquid as moonlight on flowing water. It was hypnotic.  
  
Suddenly the world snapped back into focus for Snape. He raised his wand and yelled, "Avada Kedevra". A ray of evil green light shot from his wand and made its way unerringly towards Voldemort. The split second the power left his wand, Snape knew the spell could not kill something no longer truly human. That was not his aim however. All he wanted was to stop the unicorn's horn connecting with flesh.  
  
Just as the unicorn was a stride away from Voldemort, his disappeared into a black vapour and his clothes collapsed in a heap on the grass.  
  
The unicorn charged into thin air.  
  
(* Based on a speech by Himmler to Hoess in June 1941.) (** Based on a speech given by Hitler on 12 April 1922 in Munich.) (*** Based on a speech given by Himmler on 24 May 1945.) (****Job 4:14 & Job 22:10 & Psalm 48:6 ) 


	21. Chapter Twenty

Epilogue "Open rebuke is better than secret love." Proverbs 27:5  
  
"He hath delivered my soul in peace from the battle that was against me" Psalm 55:18  
  
"weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Psalm 30:5  
  
Snape let out his breath in a shudder as he saw the unicorn wheel around and rear, its magnificent gold horn still intact. The creature screamed a whinny in pure frustration.  
  
Snape and the other Death Eaters clapped their hands over their ears. The cry of the black unicorn was not to be borne. It tore a jagged hole through the soul. It ripped the fabric of the universe for an ever-lasting second.  
  
The creature dropped to all fours and stood very still with its graceful neck lowered, almost in mourning.  
  
The unicorn's cry had badly affected the Death Eaters. They scattered to the four winds, unable to bear the unicorn's presence and terrified to see their leader disappear before their eyes. Snape dropped his wand and fell to his knees amid the confusion of escaping Death Eaters. He felt utterly numb and unbearably wired at one and the same time.  
  
He looked from the bundle of robes that had once clothed his old Lord and Master to the creature that stood forlornly on its own looking unutterably sad. Suddenly the creature knelt too and stayed very still. Snape stayed where he was and watched over it.  
  
* * *  
  
Just before dawn, Snape looked up and saw Hermione kneeling quietly where the unicorn had been only moments before. He choked back a sob of relief.  
  
"Hermione," he called in a low voice. She turned and looked at him but he could see from her eyes that she was almost more still unicorn than human. She still had an otherworldly and rather wild expression on her face. Suddenly she focused in recognition and frowned. "Severus!" She said and abruptly got to her feet. She marched over to him. "What the hell were you playing at? I had Voldemort right there and I could have gotten rid of him once and for all!" She accused with tears in her eyes.  
  
Snape unfolded his lean frame from its position on the cold ground and stood up stiffly, a bit uncertain on his feet. "Hermione, Voldemort is done for now for a good, long time. He won't be coming back in a hurry. It took over ten years last time. It will take longer this time," Snape reasoned tiredly, trying to sooth her.  
  
"Yes but he will be back! If you'd let me do it, he never could have come back," she said, beginning to work herself up into a passion.  
  
"Hermione, I was not going to let you make that sacrifice. We've been through this and you know why," he said, feeling very old.  
  
"You don't get it, do you? It's my choice! How dare you take away my right to choose?" She demanded, hands on hips but her voice shaky with unshed tears.  
  
Snape looked at her for a long moment. He was suddenly sick of lying. He was sick of lying to himself, lying to Hermione and lying to the whole damn world. He was also sick of hiding himself behind those lies. He looked at her steadily. "You're right, Hermione. I did take away your right to choose and I did it because I'm selfish. I don't want you to stay a unicorn forever. I did it because I want you to be Hermione and I want you to be with me." There was nothing romantic in his tone or body language. He was stating the facts of the case as dryly as he would explain the properties of a potion to a class. Snape felt very naked, all of a sudden. It was a feeling of remarkable freedom. It felt good and he hadn't expected that.  
  
Hermione stared at him, her lips parting in astonishment and her frown fading. Now the ball was in her court. What did she want, she wondered? She turned off her brain and let her instincts guide her for once. She found herself walking the few steps between them and putting her arms around Snape and hiding her face in his robes. A shudder tore through her body suddenly. The fear departing, she knew.  
  
Snape held her tight as the sun rose on the moors.  
  
* * * Snape summoned his broom and they flew back to a larger wizarding town nearby that had a hotel whose fireplace they could use to travel to Hogwarts. I must get my apparating license as soon as possible, Hermione thought for the second time in 24 hours. She had retrieved Harry's cloak from the ground where she had been caught earlier and they used it to cover them both as they flew over small Muggle towns.  
  
Snape was a surprisingly good flier. Hermione supposed she shouldn't be that surprised about it as his animagus was a raven. She enjoyed flying through the morning air on the back of his broom. It gave her a perfect excuse to hang onto him tightly. If she hadn't been so tired and shell- shocked, she probably would have been grinning the entire time. As it was, she allowed herself to lean into the warmth of his slender back and rest for a few minutes, breathing in his scent.  
  
They got to Dumbledore's office less than an hour later, both looking rather worse for wear. Their hair was mussed from the wind, their clothes were muddy and damp from the moors, and they were pale-faced and tired. Dumbledore had already gotten reports from his own spies that something serious was afoot amongst the Death Eaters but as yet, had no details. One look at the bedraggled pair that stepped out of the fireplace gave him some clues.  
  
"Sit down, I'll order some hot drinks and food." Dumbledore said quickly and summoned a House Elf to fetch it.  
  
Snape sank his lanky frame gratefully into a comfortable armchair and said, "Voldemort is gone and the Death Eaters are scattered. I don't anticipate that we'll be having any further disappearances from among the Muggle-born ranks for a good long time until Voldemort finds some way to regain his strength again."  
  
Dumbledore nodded gravely and passed a steaming hot chocolate over to Hermione, who was seated in a chair close to Snape's as though seeking reassurance. She looks exhausted and shocked, Dumbledore thought compassionately.  
  
"We need to find the underground camps now! Today! People may die in the meantime. We can't waste a minute," Hermione said anxiously, simply holding the hot drink in one hand and looking from Dumbledore to Snape.  
  
"Underground camps?" Dumbledore asked seriously, looking at her with a frown.  
  
"Yes, Voldemort said last night that that's where they're keeping the prisoners. I heard it just before they captured me," Hermione insisted.  
  
"They captured you?" Dumbledore said, sounding very grave and concerned.  
  
"Oh yes - but as you can see, I'm alright but what about those still being held captive? We need to get to them now!" Hermione said fretfully.  
  
"Yes, I heard Voldemort mention it too. It's the first time he's spoken about the camps at a general meeting although those in the inner circle must have known right from the outset," Snape confirmed tiredly.  
  
"It's a pity we couldn't get a spy into the inner circle," Dumbledore mused worriedly.  
  
"Yes, well I was hardly going to be invited after what happened the last time they tried to promote me to it," Snape said with a hollow laugh.  
  
"Did they give you any indication of where this camp may be?" Dumbledore questioned them both, giving them each hot muffins and crumpets on a plate.  
  
"Voldemort said something about 'North of Gillamoor' and 'West of Callington' being the locations of the old camps were they used to hold prisoners," Hermione said. "I imagine that they would use the same locations again, just put everything underground. It would be worth looking around there first," she argued earnestly, ignoring her plate of muffins.  
  
"I was taken to the one North of Gillamoor all those years ago Dumbledore," Snape reiterated, poking at a crumpet.  
  
"Yes, I remember you saying so. Of course, once Voldemort had been defeated by young Harry the camps were deserted by the Death Eaters. I didn't realise there was activity there again because the camps still look deserted. However, if they're underground it's not surprising we missed it." Dumbledore pondered seriously. He paced slowly for awhile in silence. "I'm going to send some owls to our spies. In the meantime, eat something Hermione and then you can use the bathroom in my tower to clean up and get fresh clothes while Snape uses his own rooms. We'll all head over to Gillamoor in an hour or so," he said decisively.  
  
* * *  
  
Less than an hour later, a much cleaner Snape and Hermione re-joined Dumbledore in his office and they set off for Gillamoor to meet with the others that Dumbledore had owled in the meantime. Dumbledore used a special spell to apparate both himself and Hermione at the same time, and Snape followed.  
  
They met in a field in a convenient hollow between some low hills. Hermione saw Remus and half the Hogwarts teachers there plus a few Aurors that she didn't recognise. Dumbledore briefly outlined what Hermione and Snape had already told him earlier.  
  
"Hermione suspects and I agree with her, that we will most likely find the new camps under the old ones," he said. "Remus, you've been sent to these camps before to keep an eye on the area. Have you seen anything suspicious in the past few years since Voldemort really started coming back to power?" He asked.  
  
Remus shook his head. "No, I would have reported it immediately. It looks just like it did the day after Voldemort was defeated previously and the prisoners there were liberated. It's deserted all the time as far as I know. I haven't seen any Death Eaters lurking around the place on my visits either. If there is an underground entrance, it's well hidden and there are powerful charms covering the arrival and departure of the Death Eaters with their prisoners," he assessed.  
  
"Yes, that's what I would have expected." Dumbledore said solemnly.  
  
Dumbledore sent a team of Aurors in to disable any charms that may have been put on the area. They disappeared to the North. Meanwhile, those left behind huddled into groups and talked the recent events over. None of them knew the details of how Voldemort had been defeated, in fact it was something Dumbledore himself did not know yet. Neither Hermione nor Snape felt like talking about the appearance of the black unicorn the night before. Both of them stood alone and silent, waiting for the Aurors to come back.  
  
It was a couple of hours later when they returned. By then, Snape and Hermione were sitting on the heather with their backs against a low, stone wall and almost asleep. According to the Aurors' report, the access to the underground camp had been protected by both Muggle-repelling charms and charms that would induce hallucinations in any wizard stumbling across them. A wizard who came across the entrance would merely see the beginning of a large, underground *burn.  
  
Snape and Hermione struggled to their feet and followed the Aurors back across the fields to the entrance. They walked for around 15 minutes to the North of the outskirts of Gillamoor. The Aurors led the way in, after undoing some serious locking charms on the massive iron doors.  
  
They followed a large tunnel, obviously built by magic, deep into the earth and lit by the same eerie green lights that had lit the outdoor Death Eater meetings. After half an hour of walking, they came to another set of massive doors. Hermione had a terrible feeling of foreboding. She glanced over at Snape. His face was pale. She supposed that for him, it would be a bit like relieving the most horrifying day of his life. He suddenly glanced over at her and saw her looking at him. A look of complete understanding passed between them in an instant and his expression softened for just a moment.  
  
Just then, the doors crashed back and they all entered a huge underground room. It was just as Snape had described to Hermione that one time. Cages lined the immense walls from floor to ceiling. To her relief, most were empty but there had obviously been plans to expand the operation enormously.  
  
"We need medi-witches and wizards," Hermione said, when she spotted someone in one of the cages. Remus nodded and ran out the way he came, in order to send urgent owls to the wizarding hospitals.  
  
The Aurors fanned out to search the other rooms while Dumbledore, Hermione, Snape and the Hogwarts teachers began to check every cage.  
  
It turned out to be a long day. A very long day.  
  
By nightfall, they had found 20 prisoners in the cages and in a couple of laboratories they'd found off the main room. The Aurors had also found a meeting room and a Dark Arts library as well. The prisoners were being seen to by medi-wizards and witches, and had been given warm clothing before being transferred to wizarding hospitals for on-going convalescent care.  
  
"Transfer the Dark Arts books to my offices, please. I will go through them and any that really are worth destroying will be dealt with later. The others can go in the restricted section of Hogwarts library," Dumbledore was saying as Hermione watched through a haze of exhaustion. "I will send owls tonight to specialists in magical site demolition so that this place can never be resurrected and used by Death Eaters ever again."  
  
Hermione almost smiled as she heard it. Suddenly she noticed something out of the corner of one eye. Something familiar. She immediately disappeared through one of the side doors where she had seen it. "I know you're here so you may as well come out. No-one's going to hurt you," she said into the near darkness of the Dark Arts library.  
  
A dirty and even more pale-faced than usual Draco Malfoy stepped slowly out of the shadows. Hermione kept her hand on her wand, just in case. Hermione had seen a flash of white hair earlier but now barely recognised him. His arrogance had been completely submerged in fear and his almost pedantic grooming had been replaced by dirt, blood and disarray.  
  
They regarded each other carefully. "Why are you here, Malfoy?" She asked, her voice carefully neutral.  
  
"I. I had to get away. I've never been here before and when I heard Voldemort talking about these camps for the first time last night, I had to come and see for myself. When you. when that unicorn charged and Snape annihilated Voldemort, I ran away from that unicorn's cry but I came here rather than go home. This place was already deserted of course. All the Death Eaters had been at the meeting and now they've all scattered with Voldemort's defeat," he explained, sounding disjointed and not at all like his usual pompous self.  
  
"How did you get in? It's protected by some pretty serious charms," she asked curiously.  
  
"Any Death Eater can get in," he pulled up his robe to show Hermione the Dark Mark on his forearm, identical to Snape's.  
  
Hermione sucked in her breath sharply. "When did that happen? That wasn't there at school!" She said, shocked.  
  
"This past summer, of course. Dad insisted. Anyway, the charms don't operate if you have a Dark Mark." He clarified.  
  
"Why did you come here rather than go home once Voldemort had been defeated last night?" She asked, perplexed.  
  
Draco bit his pale lips and looked away. He was silent for a long time. "I don't want to go back home, Hermione. I want to get away from all this, especially when I saw this place," he said, his pale eyes reflecting the dim, shadowed light in the library.  
  
"You don't want to be a Death Eater anymore but you know your father will insist, especially when Voldemort comes back as he will?" Hermione probed.  
  
Draco merely nodded miserably. "We'll help you get away," Hermione said simply. "Dumbledore helped Snape get away and we'll help you," she promised. Draco almost looked hopeful. "How did you even find the location of this place?" She asked with interest.  
  
"Guessed. If Voldemort has used this location before, why not use it again? If it hadn't been here, I would have tried Callington too." He said with a shrug.  
  
He'd simply used the same logic as me, Hermione thought. "C'mon. I'll take you to Dumbledore and we'll get things sorted out for you."  
  
Draco looked over her shoulder suddenly and she turned to look too. It was Snape. "I had just wondered where you had gone," he said quietly to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and then looking over at Draco. "I'm glad you've decided to defect too, Draco." He added to the boy.  
  
"I didn't know you were a spy," Draco said, looking a trifle shell-shocked. "Not until last night when you used that curse on Voldemort."  
  
Snape smiled. "That's what makes a good spy," he said simply.  
  
"Yes," Draco said faintly, his pale eyes moving from Snape's possessive and affectionate grip on Hermione to the girl's composed face with curiosity.  
  
"Come with us. We'll take you to Dumbledore now," Snape commanded quietly and led both of them out of the library. 


	22. Epilogue

Author's Note: Well, this is it guys! End of story. This has been a scary little ride for me. This story has been a lot more personal than anything I've ever posted before. To my reviewers, thank you for being so sensitive and supportive throughout in your constructive criticism as well as your praise. I can't thank you enough for giving me the courage to finish the damn thing! Special thanks to my regular reviewers - you know who you are! I appreciate the time you've taken to share your thoughts along the way and you've had a big influence on how the story was shaped. I am going to go back through my reviewers' profiles and read all your Snape stories, now that I have the time. So watch out for my reviews over the next few weeks. Once again, thank you.  
  
Epilogue "He hath delivered my soul in peace from the battle that was against me" Psalm 55:18 "weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Psalm 30:5  
  
It was around 10pm by the time Dumbledore had debriefed everyone and all the liberated prisoners had been transported to the wizarding hospital near the Muggle city of York. Dumbledore took Hermione by one hand and Draco by the other, and apparated them both to Hogwarts with Snape following. They settled into Dumbledore's office with mugs of thick, satisfying soup as none of them had eaten since they left Hogwarts that morning.  
  
Dumbledore had not seemed surprised to see Draco when he had arrived flanked by Hermione and Snape. He had not even been surprised to see the Dark Mark on his arm. He had merely smiled gently at the boy and invited him to join them at Hogwarts. An invitation which Draco accepted with unusual gratitude. She half listened to the conversation.  
  
"You do not wish to return to your parents?" Dumbledore asked Draco gravely.  
  
"No Sir. I never want to see them again," Draco said with a firmness that surprised Hermione. "My parents were part of Voldemort's inner circle. They knew about those. those. camps," he paused, struggling to contain his emotions. "I didn't know until last night. I was determined to see for myself and when I did," he paused again and shook his head. "I want nothing to do with them," he said hoarsely. "I know they won't change even now. They'll wait until he rises again and then it will all start again. I want no part of it."  
  
Hermione suddenly had a small dose of sympathy for the boy although she still didn't like him. After all, he'd called her 'mudblood' for seven years and behaved like a git all that time.  
  
"You're still not of age so you will have to divorce your parents, Draco. That's a grave thing. Are you prepared to take that step?" Dumbledore cautioned.  
  
"Yes Sir," came the unhesitating answer.  
  
"Severus, are you willing to act as his guardian for six weeks until he turns eighteen?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Yes Professor," Snape answered immediately, his hawk-like features tense with the stress of the last two days.  
  
"Well, you've got a much better attitude about being a guardian to your little pet than you did me!" Hermione snapped scowling, suddenly waking up at this development.  
  
"Snape is your guardian?" Draco said in surprise. "But everyone was saying."  
  
"I am quite well aware of what everyone was saying," Hermione cut him off sharply, still glowering at Snape who glared back. Dumbledore was beginning to wish that Snape and Hermione would keep their domestics to themselves.  
  
Snape felt it unfair of Hermione. After all, he only felt confident about Draco now because of his experience with her. Also, Draco was a boy very much like Snape had been in many ways and Snape understood him. On top of all that, Draco did not give him hard-ons which certainly made the whole concept of being a guardian easier to deal with for him; a lot easier. He shot Hermione a quelling look which was met with an even fiercer glare. Snape gave up.  
  
Hermione began to fall asleep after that. She hadn't slept in the past thirty-six hours and didn't cope well with sleep deprivation. Against the background of three quiet male voices, she fell asleep on her chair.  
  
* * *  
  
She woke up the next morning in a familiar room. It was the one she'd spent her last few days at Hogwarts in. It held strange memories for her now but the morning sun streaming in the window put paid to any gloomy thoughts. She was still a bit tired so she stumbled to the marble bathroom she'd used before hoping to wake herself up. She was still wearing the clothes she'd changed into the previous morning but these were now covered in heather and mud too from the day's activities on the moor. After a good long swim in the bath, she went back to her room to find Dobby waiting for her.  
  
"Good morning, miss. Dobby is bringing your breakfast, miss. Wishing you a happy birthday, miss," he said, beaming all over his ugly, little face. Hermione got a shock. Of course it was her birthday! Her 18th birthday! She had a party to finish preparing, she realised with a start.  
  
"Thank you Dobby!" I can't stop for breakfast. I've got a million things to do before tonight," she said and kissed Dobby on the head before using the fireplace in her room to floo home.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione's party was at the Three Broomsticks. Rosmerta had let her have the main room with a bar tab for the night. Everyone was there by 7pm except Harry who was playing in Wales that night. He had sent a funny owl with a gift.  
  
Hermione had sent a last minute invitation to Draco via owl too but she doubted he'd come to a Gryffinfor dominated gathering so soon after everything that had happened in his life. She suspected he would need a lot of space over the next few months to adjust.  
  
The place was packed to the gunwales by 8pm and the live band was pleasantly deafening. By 10pm, Hermione was happily tipsy, and dancing with Dean and Seamus. Ron was snogging with Padma in a corner, George and Pandora were sitting at a table holding hands, Lavendar was with some Hogsbridge guy and Ginny was hanging out with Parvati, Bill and Charlie in Harry's absence. Other Hogsbridge and Hogwarts friends were crowding the dance floor or sitting in the booths. Quite a number were in the alley snogging.  
  
By midnight the crowd still hadn't thinned and the band was louder, if anything. Seamus tapped her on the shoulder as she was sitting in a booth talking to Padma and Ginny and Parvati. "Lover boy is here to see you," he murmured insinuatingly in her ear, obviously alluding to the memorable game of spin the bottle. She looked up and spotted Snape in a shadowy corner, trying to hide. She shook her head at Seamus with an amused smile but didn't rise to the bait of his teasing.  
  
"Can we go somewhere quieter?" Snape hissed when she went over. He was looking distinctly irritated by the crowd and noise.  
  
She nodded and took him outside to the alley. "Dark and deserted, just the way you like it." She teased affectionately. His arms snaked around her and he pulled her against him in a searing kiss. Hermione was just inebriated enough not to register surprise and so leaned against him, responding with the same amount of heat. Finally he let go of her to catch his breath.  
  
"I wish you'd done that sooner," she sighed, her eyes half-closed.  
  
He smiled grimly. "I didn't dare before now," he admitted.  
  
"Why now?" She asked, the alcohol confusing her thinking a bit.  
  
"Hermione, you've now turned eighteen. I'm no longer your guardian," he reminded her, his dark eyes glittering down at her in the dimly lit alley.  
  
Her eyes widened. Of course! How could she have forgotten? "In that case," she said with a smile, raising her face to his. He didn't need a second hint.  
  
He lifted his mouth from hers again finally, just far enough to rasp, "Can we get a room at this damn place?"  
  
"Uh huh," Hermione said, waiting impatiently for the next kiss.  
  
"I mean now!" He clarified decisively, his breathing jagged.  
  
"Oh yes, that can be arranged," she purred and led him inside through the back way, away from the curious eyes of the party crowd to fetch a key from Rosmerta.  
  
* * *  
  
Despite Hermione's earlier misgivings, she'd come out top of her class in the four subjects she'd taken at Hogsbridge that first semester. She had sold her parents' home soon after her eighteenth birthday party and bought a cottage on the outskirts of Hogsborough, a wizarding town near Hogsmeade and thus close to Hogsbridge and Hogwarts too.  
  
Snape was still teaching at Hogwarts and the atmosphere there was more relaxed now that reports of Voldemort had disappeared. Hermione didn't understand why Snape still taught but she guessed it was out of obligation to Dumbledore. A man as wealthy as Snape had no need to work and a man as brilliant as Snape must find teaching at such an elementary level very frustrating. No wonder he was so impatient with us, Hermione thought.  
  
There was one difference however. Snape no longer spent all his free time in his dungeons making potions and experimenting. Those times were now spent at Hermione's cottage. It was a comfortable walk or short broomstick ride from Hogwarts to her cottage. Having been a very recent Head Girl, Hermione did not feel comfortable visiting him at Hogwarts but she knew that could change over time and Snape was happier seeing her at her cottage anyway.  
  
The morning after her eighteenth birthday, Snape had given her a birthday present. It was a heavy gold ring set with a magnificent garnet. "Is it a family ring?" She'd asked curiously, looking at the beautiful thing from all sides.  
  
Snape looked shocked. "No! I'd never give you any of those tainted things," he said firmly.  
  
"They're not tainted, Severus" she said gently, trying to soothe him.  
  
"It reminds me of the black unicorn; the gold and the red. Just like the unicorn's eyes," he explained, holding the ring up to the light in her hands. "It's inscribed too," he added, indicating the inside of the ring. Once more, Hermione was momentarily hypnotised by the beauty of his pale, exquisite hands.  
  
"Mizpah," she read and looked at him questioningly.  
  
"It's ancient Hebrew. It means, 'God watch between thee and me'," he translated seriously, watching her with his dark, shadowed eyes. The expression in them suddenly reminded her of the first Severus Snape and how he had looked at Hermatica.  
  
Hermione looked at him with full eyes. It was really quite an indecent length of time before they left the room Rosmerta had given them the previous night.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco and Hermione became friends, in a strange twist of fate. Snape had asked her to look after him a bit during this difficult time in his life and Hermione had reluctantly agreed. To her surprise she liked the new, more humble version of Draco. Not very humble, it was hardly Draco's style but he seemed to realise that maybe everything he'd been taught growing up was wrong. The sudden change in perspective put him off balance, and made him more human and bearable.  
  
Draco's parents had been put in Azkaban soon after the underground camp was dismantled. As a minor at the time he had defected, Draco was safe from that fate. As a result, he'd inherited all the Malfoy wealth. He was unable to enjoy it at the time, still reeling from his universe being tipped on its head.  
  
Draco was bright and had been accepted into Hogsbridge too but had deferred only weeks into the first semester when Voldemort was defeated and he had gone on to divorce his parents. He'd spent the remainder of the semester helping dismantle the Dark Arts store in his family home and taking long walks on his estate, planning the changes he was going to make to his life.  
  
One afternoon, Hermione had a new friend she'd made at Hogsbridge visiting her at her cottage. Luna had been at Beauxbatons although she was English, as her parents were diplomats of some sort over in France. Luna was dark haired, green eyed and pale skinned, and Hermione was not too sure what to make of her although she liked her.  
  
When Draco dropped by the same afternoon, Hermione saw the sudden predatory gleam in Luna's eye with a bit of concern. Trouble was, she acknowledged, that she didn't know whether to warn Luna about Draco or warn Draco about Luna. Maybe they were well-suited after all, she mused when she saw an identical predatory look light up Draco's face when he saw the girl.  
  
When Snape had come by later that night and saw the two of them together, he looked mildly alarmed and glanced questioningly at Hermione. She just shrugged. He'd heard enough about Luna from Hermione to panic mildly about her joining forces with Draco but he bit his tongue. Some matters were not the province of guardians, he decided.  
  
* * *  
  
A year after Hermione's parents' death and leaving Hogwarts, Hermione attended Harry's first World Cup final. Hermione and Snape had decided to make it their first public outing as a couple. Of course, Hermione's friends and the Hogwarts teachers had known soon after her eighteenth birthday but no-one else knew about their relationship. They sat in the stands together with Ginny and the other Weasleys, Draco and Luna, Parvati, Lavendar, Ron and Padma, Seamus and Dean, various other Hogsbridge friends, Remus, the Hogwarts' teachers including Dumbledore, and various girlfriends and boyfriends and hangers on.  
  
It was a glorious day; perfectly clear, blue skies and a light, fragrant breeze. Hermione couldn't resist buying a miniature Harry much to Snape's disgust. The little figure paced nervously across her palm and grinned lop- sidedly at her from time to time, looking so much like the real Harry that Hermione was fascinated. Most of her friends had bought one too. Snape scowled and contented himself with a scarf of England's colours. Ron's rosette yelled, "Potter, Wood," and the other team members' names until Snape wanted to hex it.  
  
England was playing Brazil and half the stands were emblazoned in their colours of red, yellow and green. England's pale blue and white looked a bit wishy washy against it.  
  
The minute Harry and the team appeared, they all stood and cheered. Harry turned and looked up at them all, a big grin on his face. Hermione was beside herself with excitement and adjusted her omnoculurs to get a better look.  
  
The game was only a couple of hours long. Both seekers were too good for it to be one of those historical, marathon matches that never end for months. It was a close run thing to who caught the snitch in the end. Harry saw it first but the Brazilian seeker was viciously fast on his broom and nearly caught him; nearly but not quite. Harry caught the snitch just in time and the stands went mad. The blue and silver fairy cheer squad lead a team of lion and unicorn mascots out onto the field in celebration of England's victory. Hermione jumped around and screamed. Even Snape cracked a smile. She hugged Ron on her one side and then practically mobbed Snape on the other. Snape didn't mind.  
  
The party that night was at the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione had not been so content and happy for a long time. She'd duxed her first year at Hogsbridge and finally settled on a Magical Research and Development career path.  
  
While Snape was having a drink with Professor Vector and Professor Hooch, Hermione shared a quiet moment with just Harry and Ron. "You're a great wizard Harry," she said with a mixture of teasing and seriousness, deliberately repeating something she had said to him on their first foray into danger.  
  
"You defeated Voldemort this time," he reminded her.  
  
"Not me. Snape," she corrected gently.  
  
"You forced Snape to," Ron said. Both boys knew the full story by then.  
  
"He'll come back," Hermione said, suddenly grave. She knew that a dark time could easily come back to the wizarding world during her lifetime but it seemed a long way off to the almost-nineteen-year-old.  
  
"We'll be ready for him," Harry said, his young face hardening.  
  
"Yes, we will." Ron agreed. The three joined hands. They'd shared too much danger and too many adventures for anyone else to intrude on the bond they had with each other. It was an exclusive one. "So, when are you and Snape getting married?" Ron teased finally.  
  
"Yeah, we want to see what a baby Snape looks like," Harry joked.  
  
"We do?" Ron asked, looking disturbed at the thought.  
  
"When you two propose to Ginny and Padma," Hermione said smartly with a grin.  
  
"Nearly nineteen is too young to be getting married," Ron argued.  
  
"Yes, it is." A cool voice drawled. Hermione smiled up at Snape. "Are you ready to go now or would you like to stay on?" He asked her quietly. It was 3am so Hermione said goodbye to Harry and Ron. Harry was fading fast anyway. He'd never been one for late nights.  
  
Just before they both apparated to Hermione's cottage, Hermione having got her apparating license just weeks after her eighteenth birthday, Snape looked down at her and said, "Happy?"  
  
She nodded. "Happy." She replied and squeezed his hand gently.  
  
She didn't think the black unicorn would be making an appearance again for a long, long time.  
  
FINIS  
  
A/N - Some people have asked me lately whether this story has a sequel. The answer is 'yes'. It is called 'For Love is as Strong as Death'. There is also another sequel from Draco's perspective called 'The Times of Restoration'. These can be found by either searching under the titles or by clicking on my author name which will take you into my Profile where there are links to these stories. 


	23. Addendum One My Bones Are Tired, Daddy

A/N - Obviously this has been written after the release of OotP whereas all my other fiction was written previous to its release. I must admit, I actually cried when I read the chapters in OotP about Snape's past. Poor, miserable git! Naturally it inspired me to write an addendum. ( This addendum is not meant to have a story of its own so much as flesh out the gaps in This Present Darkness and its sequel. If you want to know why this particular crowd are gathering at Hogwarts for Christmas, you would really need to read 'The Times of Restoration', my as yet un-posted redeemed!Draco fic.  
  
Addendum One  
  
"Cursed be the day wherein I was born: let not the day wherein my mother bare me be blessed. Cursed be the man who brought tidings to my father, saying, A man child is born unto thee; making him very glad. And let that man be as the cities which the LORD overthrew, and repented not: and let him hear the cry in the morning, and the shouting at noontide; because he slew me not from the womb; or that my mother might have been my grave, and her womb to be always great with me. Wherefore came I forth out of the womb to see labor and sorrow, that my days should be consumed with shame?" Jeremiah 20:14-17  
  
(3 months after Hermione's 18th birthday party.)  
  
It was Christmas and Hermione, Snape and Draco had been invited to Hogwarts for Christmas lunch. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Padma showed up after lunch having eaten with the Weasleys.  
  
Draco was quiet, still dealing with his visit to see his parents in Azkaban. Dumbledore had pulled him off for a chat soon after desert and while they were busy talking, Harry pulled Hermione to one side after seeing that Snape was deeply engaged in a conversation with Professor Vector and for once, not keeping a jealous eye on Hermione's movements.  
  
"I never told you," Harry began, cradling some hot mulled wine and gazing with a frown at the floor, "that I once saw some of Snape's memories in that occulmency training we did in fifth year." He flicked her a quick glance out of his bright green eyes.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened slightly and her lips parted. She had had no idea. Fleetingly she wondered how much of Harry's life was hidden from her. Quite a lot, she imagined. There had been many times during their adventures that Harry had had to do things on his own without his friends to help. "Really?" she replied and took a sip of her own drink. She had no idea what to say. One part of her desperately wanted to know more about Snape's past and another part of her was afraid what she would hear would be painful. She swallowed. "Um.. what did you see?" she asked nervously, her intelligent grey eyes scanning his face carefully.  
  
It was Harry's turn to swallow. "Oh.. um.. I saw him as a very little boy and then as a teen-ager and um.. I saw him with the Marauders," Harry said vaguely, suddenly wondering if it was a good idea to share this with Hermione after all.  
  
Hermione stood very still suddenly. She hardly seemed to breathe. "You saw him as a little boy?" she repeated softly. Harry merely nodded and took another distracted swig of his wine. "What.. er.. what was he like?" she asked curiously.  
  
Harry frowned suddenly and looked at her full in the face, his expression pained. "Hermione, I've never told anyone about this. These were memories he didn't want anyone to know about. He put them into a penseive so I couldn't access them but I lost my temper with him once during the lessons and when he was out of the room for an emergency, I.. I.. um, looked at them. He didn't want me to see them and he was furious when he found out," Harry admitted shame-faced.  
  
"You always were a hot-head," Hermione said primly, suddenly sounding like her old bossy adolescent self. "How furious?" Hermione added warily.  
  
"He was yelling and threw me out and told me never to come back. That's why I stopped having those classes when I did. He threw a jar of dried cockroaches after me. They smashed just over my head," Harry said uncomfortably.  
  
"He threw something at you?" Hermione said incredulously. "He's never lost his temper like that around me," she commented, shaking her head. "I'm the one who throws things," she added thoughtfully.  
  
Harry gave her an exasperated, meaningful look. "Duh! Like he would! I don't quite have the same power over him that you do," he said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"I don't have any power over him," Hermione demurred as though Harry had just said something ridiculous. "You never answered my question. What was he like as a little boy?" she pressed.  
  
Harry took a deep breath and looked at Hermione hesitantly. "I only a flash really but he was little and his parents were. um. fighting. He looked scared and was crying. He must have been. I don't know, 4 or 5?"  
  
"He was crying?" Hermione repeated faintly and glanced over at the adult Snape trying to imagine him small and crying, and failing utterly. Her heart gave an odd throb in her chest. She looked back at Harry. "That must have been some fight, to make him cry like that," Hermione said to Harry questioningly.  
  
"His father was a huge bully," Harry said, suddenly warming to the subject and looking angry. Harry understood about being small and bullied. "He looked vicious and cruel. Snape's mother was in a corner, crying as well and cowering like an animal." Harry shook his head. "God only knows what Snape's home life must have been." Harry was quiet for a few moments. "I can't get that memory of Snape's out of my head. Now and then, it will come back very clearly to me. He looked terrified and miserable, poor kid," Harry murmured.  
  
Hermione was staring at him with wide eyes but her vision was turned inwards, imagining what Harry had just said. There was a film of tears over her eyes but none fell. She wrapped her slender arms around herself still holding her warm drink. "Did you see anything else?" she asked finally.  
  
"I saw him as a teenager at home. He was alone in his bedroom. It was quite dark so I couldn't see much but he was just lying on his bed killing flies with his wand," Harry shrugged. At least that memory hadn't been as traumatic to witness as that of him as a child.  
  
"Alone," Hermione repeated to herself. "Lonely and bored; probably didn't want to leave his bedroom with a family life like that," she sighed. "Anything else?" she asked him quietly.  
  
Harry suddenly looked very, very awkward. "Er.. yes. I saw him at Hogwarts with.. er.. my father and um.. Sirius.. and Remus and Peter," he said with difficulty.  
  
"What did you see?" Hermione said, trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice.  
  
"They were doing their O.W.L.s and then they went down to the lake," Harry said. That bit was easy.  
  
"And then?" Hermione asked, her tension growing.  
  
"Um.. then I saw my Mum too. She was at the lake with some of her friends," he paused and glanced at Hermione. Her face was unyielding. He knew he'd have to tell the whole story. She'd get it out of him one way or another. He wondered if he was doing the right thing, telling her all this. Snape had obviously been very closed-mouthed with her about certain aspects of his past.  
  
"Well. um. James, my Dad, he was showing off with a snitch and stuff. Because Lily was there, he was trying to make an impression, you know. Snape was sitting in the shade of tree nearby but out of their line of vision. Anyway, so. Dad spotted Snape and started giving him a hard time," Harry paused and looked anxiously at Hermione.  
  
"What kind of a hard time?" she asked stonily.  
  
"Oh.. er.. calling him names and stuff," Harry prevaricated.  
  
"What names?" Hermione said impatiently.  
  
"Oh, well.. Snivellus, I think," Harry replied agitatedly.  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Go on," she said.  
  
"Then, he um. disarmed Snape who had gone for his wand when Dad yelled out to him," Harry heard Hermione draw in her breath. "Then they insulted him some more; made fun of his looks and stuff. So Snape got angry and was swearing at them," Harry continued.  
  
"Gee, I wonder why?" Hermione muttered sarcastically.  
  
"Um.. and then James put a scourgify charm on Snape's mouth," Harry said in a small voice. Hermione gasped.  
  
"Then Lily, my mum, she told James to leave him alone," Harry said.  
  
"I like the sound of your Mum," Hermione said with sudden respect.  
  
That made Harry feel slightly better. "Of course, Dad had a big crush on her so he asked her to promise to go out with him in return for laying off Snape." To his surprise, Hermione laughed.  
  
"What a loser! Couldn't get her out on a date any other way than behaving like a total prat and using blackmail?" Hermione scoffed, scorn written clear on her face.  
  
"Didn't work. Lily said 'no'. Anyway, by that time Snape had managed to get his wand and cut open James' face," Harry continued hurriedly.  
  
"Serves him right," Hermione said coldly without pity, her eyes dark with anger. "What happened next?" she asked, when Harry fell silent.  
  
"James levitated Snape upside down in the air," Harry muttered, swallowing again.  
  
Hermione put both hands over her mouth and stared at Harry in disbelief. "He didn't! And no-one but Lily did anything to help?" she asked, her face horrified.  
  
Harry looked at the pain in Hermione's eyes and felt terrible. After all, it had been his father who had been Snape's chief torturer. "And then?" she whispered.  
  
"Then mum turned her wand on James and he put Snape down. James told Snape he should be grateful to mum and.. um.. Snape insulted her. Quite badly, actually," Harry said frankly.  
  
"What did he say?" Hermione asked apprehensively.  
  
"He said that he didn't need help from.. um.. a filthy mudblood," Harry repeated, tensing for her reaction.  
  
Hermione just stared at Harry, then sat down abruptly in nearby chair and was very still. "He was like Draco, wasn't he?" she said finally in a very small voice.  
  
"It sounded a bit like you and Draco all over again, I must admit," Harry said honestly.  
  
"What did she say?" Hermione asked curiously.  
  
"She said she wouldn't bother in future," Harry said.  
  
"I'm not surprised!" Hermione murmured.  
  
"And that he should wash his underpants," Harry couldn't resist adding.  
  
Hermione stared at Harry with parted lips and then suddenly laughed. "I hate to say it but he almost deserved that." She stopped laughing abruptly and sighed deeply. "I'm almost afraid to ask what happened after that," she said ruefully.  
  
Hermione's laughter had made Harry feel a bit better. "Dad tried to make Snape apologise to mum but he wouldn't, of course. Then mum turned on dad and basically called him an arrogant, fat-headed, show-off which to be honest - he was, really," Harry admitted with a sigh. "Then she stalked off and that's when Snape caught me so I didn't see any more," Harry lied. He didn't want to tell Hermione about his father suspending Snape in mid- air and threatening to dispose of his underwear for the edification of the crowd of other students. Some things were just too humiliating to expose.  
  
"I bet Severus was furious," Hermione sighed. Harry still couldn't get used to Hermione calling Snape by his first name.  
  
"I had a bruise on my arm for weeks where he grabbed me," Harry confessed.  
  
"I'm not surprised. It's not exactly something you would want someone you don't like to know about, is it? Or anyone at all, really. It would be ten times worse for a student to know something like that about a teacher. I guess he thought you'd run and tell everyone," Hermione speculated.  
  
"I guess so. I've never told anyone until now and I won't tell anyone else," Harry promised seriously.  
  
"I think that would be best," Hermione agreed. "Thanks for telling me. It must have been hard to tell tales about your own father," she said sympathetically. "He was a bit of a git at 15, wasn't he?"  
  
Harry sniffed. "To be honest, I don't think Snape was too far behind. He did call my mum a mudblood," he said angrily.  
  
"Yes," Hermione sighed. "The saddest thing is, apart from Lily, no-one did anything to help him. He must have been universally disliked," Hermione acknowledged. "Whereas we know James was popular."  
  
"I wonder why he was disliked. It can't have just been because he was ugly and said stupid things like 'mudblood'. There were plenty of Slytherins who used words like that who weren't picked on, I would imagine," Harry speculated.  
  
Hermione, who had given Harry a dirty look when he called Snape 'ugly', pondered the same question. Draco had not been unpopular in his own House. He had not been picked on like Snape. Why was Snape tortured?  
  
"I think I know why," Hermione said softly, finally. Harry looked at her with interest. "Snape obviously came from a violent home, certainly an abusive and unhappy and dysfunctional home. By the time he got to Hogwarts, he was already the walking wounded. You know what school kids are like," she shrugged. "They are like pack animals. If they scent that one of their pack is wounded or weak, they turn on them and try to destroy them. That's what happened to Snape. He was miserable, lonely, frightened and insecure long before he went to school. He learned to cover this up with being snide, using sarcasm, and a mask of superiority and cutting cruelty. He pushed others away from him because he'd already learnt that relationships only hurt and brought no benefit. Of course the other kids hated him. They didn't know why he was like that. It was a miserable cycle for Severus, one that can only be broken with maturity and sometimes not even then," Hermione explained thoughtfully.  
  
Harry eyed Hermione with respect. He sometimes suspected there was more to Hermione's understanding than just merely being a brainiac.  
  
Snape had suddenly noticed that Harry and Hermione had been sitting together by themselves for a very long time. The realization brought a sick feeling to the pit of his stomach. He still felt sure that given half a chance Harry would still steal Hermione out from under his nose. He refused to believe that Harry could genuinely prefer Ginny over Hermione. He did not know that his own prejudice blinded him to the truth that Harry loved Ginny, and merely viewed Hermione as a beloved friend and fellow adventurer. He swept over to them, "and what are you two plotting?" he asked in his deep voice, eyeing Harry with a cold dislike which had only just been recently diminishing.  
  
Hermione smiled conspiratorily at Harry, knowing it would rile Snape. "We're just telling secrets," she teased, taking Snape's thin hand and standing up.  
  
"Oh?" Snape said, raising his dark eyebrows. "How interesting."  
  
Harry blushed suddenly, remembering vividly the memories that belonged to Snape that he had just described to Hermione. Something about the guilty expression that flashed across Harry's face sent a cold shaft through Snape's body and as surely as if Harry had told him so, he knew what secrets they had been discussing. His skin went cold then hot then cold again, and a flush settled along his sharp cheekbones. He was afraid to look down into Hermione's face. Hermione's hand was soft and warm in his however and he realized that whatever Harry had told her, it had not changed the fact that Hermione wanted to be close to him. He let out his breath slowly and his panic subsided slightly. He would deal with Harry later. He was not about to create a scene and ruin everyone's Christmas.  
  
He made himself glance down at her, his dark eyes hooded. She was smiling up at him, her expression teasing and affectionate and slightly flirtacious. It always gave him a shock when Hermione flirted with him. He was not used to beautiful women looking at him like that but his black eyes answered with a flash of something in their depths before he realized it and she grinned up at him. Suddenly his fears about Potter seemed ridiculous once more and he relaxed, leading her back to the group with Harry following amiably and grinning at Ginny who was waiting for him next to Dumbledore.  
  
* * *  
  
It was not until late that night when Hermione really had a chance to sit down and think through everything that Harry had told her about Snape's childhood and school days. It had not been much in terms actual events but it had given her a lot of information about who Snape was and why. It had filled in a lot of gaps and explained a lot about Snape's personality. She suddenly knew how brave it had been of him to tell her that he wanted her to be with him on the moors that morning. It had been hard for her to hear and accept for her own home life had been similar and caused damage although thankfully, not her time at Hogwarts. However, she now knew for sure that he had suffered far more deeply than she had suspected or had wanted to believe. She bit her lip as she stared into the fire in one of the small sitting rooms. She was so deep in thought that she did not hear Snape glide into the room.  
  
Snape could tell from the expression on her face what she was thinking about. She was biting her bottom lip again and her fine eyebrows were drawn together in a small frown. He stopped dead and watched her face. There was something about its expression that pierced him like a knife. Suddenly he realized that it was the same thing that had frozen him immobile in a Potions class that seemed to belong to another lifetime. There was pain in the depths of her grey eyes, the pain of compassion; compassion for him.  
  
He went and sat beside her in front of the fire and she glanced up suddenly. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. To her horror, she suddenly found her eyes filling with tears. If she was horrified, it was nothing to how Snape felt.  
  
"Harry told you," he said flatly. She merely looked at him through her tears. "How much did he tell you?" he demanded.  
  
She shrugged. "He told me about your bully of a father and your weak, frightened mother." Although, Hermione speculated, his mother did not look weak or frightened in their portrait. She looked like a quintessential Death Eater to Hermione; hard as nails and over-bearingly proud with it.  
  
"My father was the only person mother was afraid of," Snape said harshly. "She could have stopped his violence with magic if she'd used some gumption but she would have had to leave father and there was no way that she was going to give up all this," Snape said with a sneer, indicating the Snape Manor.  
  
"And she didn't protect you either," Hermione said quietly.  
  
Snape snorted. "She assisted him with it, in a way," he said bitterly. "She almost colluded." Hermione was biting her lip again. "What else did Potter tell you?" he rasped and got up suddenly to pace.  
  
"That you were a lonely teen-ager and spent a lot of time alone in your room," Hermione said quietly.  
  
"Well, I was in no rush to spend time with my precious parents," he snapped.  
  
"And no friends either," Hermione added gently.  
  
"I certainly didn't want to invite anyone here," he said starkly, looking around the room with dislike.  
  
"No-one would have come here. You didn't have any friends at Hogwarts from what I understand," Hermione replied sadly.  
  
"Just as well," Snape muttered.  
  
"Why did James and Sirius hate you so much?" Hermione asked cautiously.  
  
"Don't forget Remus and Peter," Snape snarled.  
  
"From what Harry told me, it was mainly James," Hermione stated.  
  
"And what did precious little Potty tell you?" Snape said, suddenly whipping round and leaning over Hermione almost nose to nose, his eyes glittering with fury.  
  
"If you stop breathing on me, I'll tell you," Hermione said coolly, more annoyed than intimidated by Snape's tactics.  
  
Snape stood up abruptly and flung himself into back into his seat, his long lean legs splayed out before him. "Go on," he retorted, half ashamed of his attempt to intimidate Hermione but too worked up to feel it too much.  
  
Hermione out-lined what Harry had told her of that particular incident right up until Snape caught Harry at it and threw him out of the Potions laboratory. Snape held his breath throughout and regretted asking her to re-tell it. She was kind though, sparing his feelings and only out-lining the bare facts without any details. Snape was interested that Harry either hadn't seen or didn't tell Hermione what had happened that day after Lily had left. For that, he was deeply grateful and relieved.  
  
He watched her face as she relayed what Harry had told her. Her earlier irritation with him wore off almost immediately and he glimpsed once again the pained empathy that confused Snape and caused an odd ache in his chest. Once more, his cheekbones were stained red and he felt cold at the thought that Hermione now knew some of his most painful memories. It seemed impossible to hide anything from her. All his life, he had hidden these things from almost everyone. Hermione had come along, and broken his past and his soul wide open.  
  
Hermione could see he was suffering because he felt exposed and because he had had to relive the memories. She got up and sat in his lap as she had a habit of doing. Without thinking about it, Snape wrapped his thin arms around her. She looked up into his angular face, her expression perfectly miserable and Snape suddenly understood that she was suffering on his behalf because she knew how these memories made him feel. The thought knocked him breathless. No-one had ever suffered either for him or with him for any reason. No-one had ever given a damn apart from Dumbledore whose help had been more practical than emotional. His heart suddenly knocked so hard against his ribs that Hermione actually felt it. She looked at him in alarm but before she could say anything, he had captured her lips with his.  
  
Snape's heart was hammering madly. He could hardly believe that Hermione even wanted to touch him after what she had found out. To him, the events had been permanently contaminating. The sense of shame and helpless rage made him feel worthless; certainly undeserving of the attentions of a woman like Hermione. She wound her arms around him, pressing him back into the armchair as they kissed. It was almost as though, he thought hazily, knowing these things had increased her passion rather than cooled it. He was in no fit state to puzzle out why at that point and gave himself up the mindless pleasure of the moment.  
  
From that night on, their bond grew even deeper to Snape's own amazement. It was like the girl was infiltrating his soul, he reflected much later, and revelations that may have shattered that bond somehow only ever served to forge it more strongly. From that night forward, Snape's suspicious jealousy of Harry grew much, much less. 


	24. Addendum Two, This is My Heart Bleeding ...

Addendum Two  
  
"And others had trial of cruel mockings" Hebrews 11:36  
  
(The day after the Christmas Party in Addendum One)  
  
"Why did you call Lily a mudblood when she was trying to help you?" Hermione asked, as they sat over breakfast. Hermione took a bite out of a pear and looked at Snape questioningly.  
  
Snape was pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate without any real interest. He glanced up at her sharply. "Are you still thinking about that?" he asked abruptly, looking displeased.  
  
"Only that bit. I mean, why be so nasty to someone who was trying to help you? She was the only one who did," Hermione added pointedly.  
  
Snape mentally cursed Potter once more for telling his secrets. His lips thinned. "I don't know. Obviously I was angry and she was the easiest target. It was humiliating enough being ganged up on by James Potter's stupid little friends without Lily getting involved too. I didn't want her to help me," he spat.  
  
"Pride," Hermione accused, pointing her pear at him.  
  
"Of course it was! Lily was little-miss-popularity-queen. Everyone loved Lily, especially James Potter!" Snape snarled, putting down his knife and fork finally with a look of disgust.  
  
"You didn't want her help because she was well-liked?" Hermione said, confused.  
  
"I was so sick of people like her; kids who were popular and good-looking and brilliant at everything. They thought that they ran the school and could do anything they liked to anyone, especially Potter," Snape sneered. "They didn't have to play by the rules because they were 'special'. Harry was just like his father," Snape added with a hiss.  
  
"So you didn't want Lily to help you because you were jealous of her and people like her at Hogwarts?" Hermione said with a frown, still trying to understand. Suddenly her face cleared as she comprehended the real problem. "You hated them because they were happy, didn't you?" she said softly.  
  
Snape stared at her. Once again, she had uncovered a truth about him that was hidden even to himself.  
  
"You've always hated anyone who is happy. You'd think you would have gotten over your dislike of Harry by now, his last 2-3 haven't exactly been happy," she sighed. She considered him for a minute. "That's why you picked on us at Hogwarts, wasn't it? You could tell that Harry, Ron and I were happy together. You'd never had real friends in your life and it got under your skin to see us together."  
  
"I did not pick on you lot. I just never let you get away with anything. I don't understand why Dumbledore let you three get away with so much. It was like James' stupid friends all over again. They got away with everything. No-one ever stopped them breaking rules, no-one ever punished them and they could do what they liked," Snape said coldly, his gaze frigid.  
  
"Including torture you," Hermione said gently.  
  
"Yes," Snape hissed, his dark eyes glittering with anger. He turned away from her and stared moodily at the stone floor.  
  
"They shouldn't have gotten away with that," Hermione agreed after a long silence, her grey eyes sad.  
  
Snape glanced at her and was once again amazed to find her looking upset on his behalf. He was simply unused to sympathy. Hermione looked up abruptly and her eyes were gleaming with fun. "And now you're living with a filthy mudblood," she teased. "Poor you!" She got up and went to sit close to him.  
  
He took her hand. "Don't remind me how brainwashed I was, please," he murmured, staring at their joined hands.  
  
"No, I think you do a perfectly adequate job of beating yourself up," she assured him tartly. "I just wish," Hermione added, "that you'd given Lily more of a chance. She probably would have been a friend to you if you'd let her. Perhaps that would have made James lay off a bit too. I like the sound of her."  
  
Snape sneered, looking quite like himself again all of a sudden. "I suppose looking back I regret not having seen that Lily was trying to be nice but as that was something I was unused to, it's unlikely I would have recognized it at that age. However, I will never regret doing anything I could to make James' life difficult," he added with real malice sparkling in his deep-set eyes.  
  
"Well, James is dead. Being nasty to Harry won't hurt him now," Hermione said bluntly.  
  
Snape's dark eyes examined Hermione's calm face. "I won't bother Harry as long as he stays away from you," he said flatly.  
  
"We're best friends, Severus. That's not going to happen," she said unequivocally, caressing the hand she held.  
  
"You know what I mean," he said, his eyes narrowing marginally.  
  
"In that case, there is no need to worry at all. Ginny would scratch my eyes out long before you had a say," Hermione said, throwing back her thick mane of hair and laughing frankly.  
  
Only Gryffindors, Snape reflected, could laugh like that. However, once more he felt mollified and simply pulled her hand to his mouth to plant a kiss in its palm.  
  
* * *  
  
It was the first time that Hermione had stayed at Snape Manor. They had been still living either at Hermione's old home or the new cottage in Hogsborough that she had recently bought with her inheritance. Snape was reluctant to live at the Manor more than necessary and he had brought Hermione there only for the odd few hours here and there during the past 3 months. The Snape Manor held bad memories of loneliness and abuse for Snape, and he had no desire to live there. Hermione preferred her small, warm cottage anyway so it worked out well. However, Hermatica and Severus- the-first had suggested that maybe they should be there over Christmas for Draco's sake so he had some company. It would be Draco's first Christmas without his parents and away from his old home. Hermione had immediately seen the sense in that and persuaded the reluctant Snape to spend two weeks there over the Christmas and New Year period.  
  
Snape had given Hermione an entire wing for her own use although they shared a bedroom in the main part of the Manor with an elaborate series of dressing, bathing and private rooms off the main bedroom for each of them to use privately. "I can't believe how many rooms this place has," Hermione had muttered after Snape had shown her around her own wing and her private apartments off the main bedroom.  
  
"If you ever need to find me and get lost, just use a location spell," Snape advised.  
  
"How many House Elves do you have to keep this place clean?" Hermione asked, ever practical.  
  
Snape paused and thought. "I have no idea," he admitted, unperturbed.  
  
As it was, they didn't see much of Draco anyway as he spent a lot of his time either up at the Ministry or at Malfoy Manor during the day.  
  
A few days after they had temporarily moved in, Hermione got lost trying to find her way to Snape's own wing where he did his work and his potions laboratory. "I can't believe this place," Hermione muttered. "Not only is it a mausoleum but it's also a bloody maze too!" She knew she was on the ground floor but after wondering around for a good half an hour, no longer had any idea which wing she was now in. In desperation, she did a location spell on Snape. Her wand pointed down a long, dark passageway much like many other long, dark passageways she had already seen. With a sigh she set off. Her wand skewed abruptly off to her left when she reached a junction and following it she found herself in another long hallway. As she glanced up, she saw the hem of Snape's robes swish around a corner at the end. With an irritated sigh, she followed him at a fast trot.  
  
As she neared the end of the hallway she was sure she could hear voices. Hermione was already used to the oppressive silence of Snape Manor and so felt ridiculously alarmed by it. She snuck up to the end of the hallway and noted the voices were coming from the direction that Snape had turned down. She was just about to follow and announce herself when she heard a very unpleasant voice hiss,  
  
"What are you doing back here? I thought your parents had gotten rid of you for good!"  
  
"Obviously not," returned Snape's voice at its coolest.  
  
"I can't believe a weakling like you would darken the doorway of the great Snape house. Your parents should have drowned you at birth when they realized what a little runt you were. And you! The heir! What a cruel joke fate has played on this great dynasty," the voice continued viciously.  
  
Hermione stood frozen and horrified. What kind of abuse was this, she wondered? She felt a bit sick.  
  
"Well, I am the heir and you had best get used to it," she heard Snape say silkily. Hermione knew that tone was dangerous.  
  
"The heir!" a sharp woman's voice suddenly joined in. "Your parents couldn't stand the sight of you! They thought you were a disgrace and they were right. All you did was sit in the library or in your room reading! Then you deserted the Death Eaters like the yellow-bellied traitor that you are," she continued cruelly. "If they could have killed you when you were little without that fool Dumbledore interfering, they would have."  
  
Hermione leaned against a wall and breathed deeply. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.  
  
"Well, it's too bad they didn't. They missed their chance, didn't they?" Snape replied grimly.  
  
"You're a disgrace to the Snape name!" yet a third voice hissed but Snape's footsteps were retreating to the other end of the hallway.  
  
Hermione waited until she could no longer hear him and crept into the hallway he had just left. It was lined with family portraits and there wasn't one pleasant face amongst them. Tears of fury had welled up in Hermione's eyes at the outrageous lies and taunts she had just heard. Was there no-one who left him alone, she wondered?  
  
"Ah, it's his filthy little mudblood whore now!" the first spiteful voice said. She saw that it came from a squat, grey-haired, square-jawed man in medieval garb on the left wall. "Are you running after your pitiful, weak, pathetic traitor of a lover?" he jeered.  
  
Hermione pointed her wand at him. "Silenus!" she hissed. The man in the portrait looked furious. She levitated his picture off the wall, turned it around and put it on the floor leaning against the wall.  
  
"You can't do that!" a woman's shrill voice said.  
  
"Oh it was you too, was it?" Hermione spun around and looked with hatred at the hard-faced, hawk-nosed woman in the portrait behind her. "Silenus!" she repeated and put that portrait on the floor too.  
  
"This is outrageous! You do not have the authority to treat us like that," another voice said indignantly. Hermione recognized it. With a distinctly malicious smile, she gave the ugly, dark-haired, middle-aged man in the portrait the same treatment as the rest.  
  
"Any more objections?" Hermione asked, her wand akimbo as her gaze raked the paintings along both walls. There was silence. "If I ever hear any portrait in this house ever abuse or criticize or belittle the current heir again, that person will get the same treatment as these three. Please ensure that message is taken to every portrait in this house," Hermione ordered crisply. She then put a sticking charm on the three portraits so that they could not be moved by House Elves or anyone else until Hermione personally took the charm off.  
  
As she continued down the hallway, a wave of whispering broke out and Hermione smiled to herself. She was sure every portrait in the Snape Manor would hear this story within the hour.  
  
She was right. By the time she finally found Snape, Hermatica was already excitedly telling him the whole story from the frame of an old-fashioned alchemy painting. She smiled at Hermatica behind Snape's back before he swung around and saw her there.  
  
"I can't believe you did that," he said in his deep voice, his face stunned.  
  
"I'm sorry. I know it's your house and I shouldn't do things like that without your permission but I was furious," Hermione admitted, not looking at all sorry.  
  
He simply stared at her. Her authority or lack of it had not entered his head. "Why did you do it?" he asked, mystified.  
  
She looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean 'why?' Because they were being abusive and vile, that's why. To stop them doing it again, that's why. Because it was shocking and sickening and unacceptable, that's why!" she said, her voice increasing in volume as she got angry all over again.  
  
He stared at her in silence. Loyalty was an unknown quantity to him. No- one had ever defended him in his life. Suddenly his mind went back to their conversation about Lily earlier that week. That was untrue, he acknowledged. Lily had tried to defend him 20 years ago and gotten abused herself as thanks. Snape burned with shame but his face remained mask- like.  
  
"They called her names too," Hermatica said suddenly.  
  
Snape swung around to look at her again. "What do you mean?" he demanded harshly.  
  
"They called her a filthy mudblood whore," Hermatica said, her face tight with disapproval.  
  
"Thanks for repeating it," Hermione said with resignation.  
  
"He should know!" Hermatica defended herself, pointing to Snape. "He should know what these dear ancestors of his are like!"  
  
"Do you think he doesn't?" Hermione replied with irony.  
  
Snape's face had gone white with fury. "Those paintings are going to be destroyed!" he said, his voice shaking with rage.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened. She had never seen Snape in a temper like that before. "You can't do that. It's family history!" she protested.  
  
"I don't care," Snape said venomously.  
  
"You can't anyway. I've put a sticking charm on them. Only I can move them," Hermione said. "And I'm not going to let you destroy family heirlooms just because they have nasty mouths."  
  
"I could just vaporise them where they are," he said with narrowed eyes but he had begun to calm down slightly. He noticed Hermione was staring at him fixedly with that expression that made him uncomfortable.  
  
"Did you have to put up with this growing up?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
His lips tightened and he gave a single nod and looked away.  
  
"No wonder you stayed in your room," she remarked. "Very sensible." Then another thought struck her. "And no wonder you didn't encourage friendships. Imagine bringing friends back here to listen to utter garbage like that."  
  
"Exactly," he said broodingly, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a frown.  
  
Hermione sighed and felt depressed. She glanced out of one of the high, slit-like windows in the thick stone wall. "Let's get into our Muggle clothes and go outside into the sunshine. All these long, dark hallways and massive dark rooms are getting me down," she suggested, looking with sudden distaste around the potions laboratory.  
  
"Good idea!" Hermatica said emphatically and went off in search of Severus- the-first to tell him all the news.  
  
Snape suddenly felt the same way. They changed quickly in their vast dressing-rooms into jeans and went outside. The minute the pale sunlight hit Hermione's skin and hair, and she felt the cold late December air on her cheeks she felt better and laughed. Snape pulled her into his embrace to kiss her. "You taste of snow," she said.  
  
She was glad to see him looking suddenly happy and relaxed. Those moments were rare and Hermione treasured them. She glanced back at the cold, grey, stone house and understood why Snape didn't want to live there. She looked up at Snape to see him watching her carefully and she knew he had read what she was thinking. She bent down and began gathering up snow and patting it into a snowball.  
  
"You wouldn't dare," he said forbiddingly.  
  
She grinned and took a few steps away and pegged it straight at him with a laugh. He took it on the right shoulder but as it had been deliberately loosely packed, it didn't hurt him.  
  
"You'll live to regret that," he threatened calmly, pulling out his wand.  
  
"Hey, no fair! You have to use Muggle rules," Hermione protested, already gathering up more snow.  
  
"Says who?" he asked coolly, using his wand to make a perfectly round snowball.  
  
"Me!" she shouted back and easily dodged his first attack. "You're not very good at this," she taunted gaily as she got him on his left arm with her second missile.  
  
Finally, when they were both cold and wet and Hermione was helpless with laughter they called a pax. Using a drying charm, they quickly dried their clothes off. Hermione's cheeks were pink and her lips very red. Even Snape had a feint touch of pink across his fleshless cheekbones.  
  
"You're a nasty, ruthless opponent," Hermione accused, still laughing at the bits of snow in Snape's hair.  
  
"Thank you," Snape said sincerely.  
  
Hermione just snorted and then turned her wand onto Snape's hair to dry it. "It's so fine that it dries quickly. Just as well or you'd end up with pneumonia," she said but Snape was looking at her scarlet mouth. Hermione stepped willingly into the circle of Snape's arms. She didn't notice a thin, dark shadow move away from one of the leaded windows on the second floor; a shadow with moonlight pale hair. 


	25. Addendum Three, But Something's In The W...

A/N - Okay, so this is just pure fluff and fun people! Hey, I've finished the story so now I can have all the fun I like! ;)  
  
Addendum Three  
  
(Approximately 6 months after Hermione's 18th Birthday party.)  
  
Snape was trying to concentrate on the new potion he was experimenting with when a huge noise interrupted him. It sounded like something heavy being rolled up and down a hallway nearby. Then he noticed it was actually three things rolling up and down.  
  
He frowned in aggravation and tried to turn his mind back onto the problem of whether toadstool juice would actually enhance the potion's ability to allow passage between this world and that of the fae or whether it would simply poison the drinker. He really needed to do more research and possibly add another ingredient to nullify the poison's effect on the drinker without upsetting the fine balance of other ingredients in the potion.  
  
Suddenly, there was a crash and one of the rolling things came abruptly to a stop. Snape took a deep breath and stalked out of his potions laboratory, his dark eyes glistening with anger. Those damn House Elves knew better than to create noise near his study or laboratory or library, he thought irritably.  
  
He followed the noise and it led him to a passage on the far side of his laboratory. As he stepped into the passage a small, black object with too much hair whizzed past him unnaturally fast and whooped. It took Snape a few moments to realize it was Hermione still in her Hogsbridge robes. She was making a huge noise as she whizzed by and Snape finally worked out that she was balancing on a row of small wheels on each foot.  
  
Another body in Auror Academy robes whizzed past and Snape recognized the bright red hair. Then another body in bright orange Chudley Canon robes came next with unmistakable messy black hair.  
  
"What are you doing?" he demanded loudly, as they were making a terrific noise on the wooden floors of the second storey.  
  
"Roller-blading," Hermione explained innocently before pushing off again to whiz back past Snape to the other end of the hallway.  
  
"Why?" he asked, his dark eyes narrowed with impatience.  
  
"Whaddya mean why? 'Cause its fun!" Ron replied, wobbling dangerously past again.  
  
"Fun?" Snape repeated as though unsure of the meaning of the word.  
  
"Yeah! Whoooooooo!" Harry agreed, his Seeker balance and speed making him an excellent roller-blader.  
  
"'Mione's not very good at it though," Ron teased.  
  
Hermione pulled out her wand and sent an accurate freezing charm onto one of his wheels. He crashed loudly into a wall. "No fair, Hermione!" he protested, nursing his banged knee. "You've got no sense of humour. Are you sure there is no latent Slytherin in you?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "Positive," she said pitilessly and put a mild healing charm on Ron's reddened kneecap.  
  
"Why are you doing this here?" Snape asked edgily, folding his thin arms over his tall, lean body.  
  
"You've got no concrete in your gardens," Ron accused as though it was a deliberate oversight of Snape's.  
  
"Yeah and those stone floors are no good. They're too bumpy. Wooden floors are the best," Harry explained cheerfully, whizzing past again.  
  
Snape suddenly felt like he was baby-sitting. That was until Hermione skidded over to him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.  
  
"Ew, I am totally squicked," Ron said, looking sick.  
  
"Me too," Harry agreed emphatically.  
  
Snape was too bemused to say anything for a couple of seconds. They had not been together long enough for him to get used to anyone touching him at all, let alone Hermione actually kissing him voluntarily.  
  
"Way to go, 'Mione!" Ron cheered. "Anytime Snape gives us a hard time, you can just kiss him!"  
  
Snape sent another freezing charm to a wheel on his other roller blade and he fell flat on his backside. "Ow! No need for that," Ron protested, getting up and rubbing his sore behind.  
  
"My potions laboratory is just on the other side of this passage," Snape said, his arms still crossed. "And you three are making a huge noise. Perhaps you might have considered a Silenus charm?" he said coldly, reverting back to his professor persona.  
  
"Sorry," Hermione called out from one end of the passage where she was catching her breath. "I didn't realize we were so close to your laboratory otherwise we would have." She careered past him again and added, "professor" insinuatingly as she did, skating backwards to grin at him.  
  
Snape realized he had made a mistake using his school teacher tone on the trio now that they had graduated. He knew Hermione didn't like it. "Fine," he said shortly and turned on his heel and left, his robes billowing characteristically behind him.  
  
"Ooooo-oooo-ooooo! We got in trouble!" Ron taunted.  
  
"10 points each from Gryffindor!" Harry said mockingly.  
  
Hermione grinned at them both but said, "we shouldn't have disturbed him. It's my fault. Silenus!" she added and waved her wand over the passage.  
  
The friends kept it up until dinner-time when they were all hot, hungry, sweaty and exhausted. "Don't forget Draco's dorm-warming of the Serpent's Den this weekend!" Hermione reminded them as the boys left via a fireplace at one end of the passage.  
  
"We'll be there!" they both promised, hugged Hermione and left with cheerful good-byes.  
  
Hermione took the silencing spell off the passage and too tired to walk, she apparated back to her private bathroom off the main bedroom she shared with Snape whilst at the Manor. Her bathroom was white marble with a sunken, swimming pool size bath. She filled the tub with sandalwood scented bubbles and floated lazily. She acknowledged that she was rather annoyed with Snape for pulling the school-teacher routine on them this afternoon. If they had been inconsiderate, it wasn't deliberate. She still had no idea of the layout of the Manor. She had spent little time there in the past 6 months. The passage they had been in was parallel to the one with the entry to the laboratory so she didn't realize she had been so close to it.  
  
She was still so annoyed that she didn't feel like eating with him so she went to the study he had given her after bathing and ordered something to eat to be brought to her there. She had work to do for University so she began that as she ate and soon was so engrossed that she lost track of the time. It was not until midnight that the small grandfather clock in her room alerted her to the time. The thing bonged and wheezed and carried on at midday and midnight so much that is was impossible to ignore it.  
  
Her mind still on a problem to do with her studies, Hermione shuffled off to their bedroom already half asleep.  
  
Snape had spent his time after his solitary dinner worrying not so much about the incident that afternoon as whether the whole scenario of living with a much younger, former student of his would work. Maybe the only reason she was with him at all was because she had needed an older, authority figure in her life immediately after her parents had died, he thought. A deep line cut between his brows as he considered this possibility. Then again, she hated it when he pulled on his school teacher guise with her and usually ignored him if he tried to act like an authority figure. Any time he told her what to do she would generally do the opposite just to be difficult. Also, she had coped very well with the practicalities of her situation when her parents died and needed little guidance or help from him. His forehead cleared as he had to dismiss the idea of her needing an authority figure as untrue.  
  
No, he recognized, the problem was that he was too used to being a school teacher to the trio and when he didn't know how else to treat them, he reverted. Hermione had un-nerved him by kissing him like that and he'd lost his head and hadn't been thinking clearly. He would have to break that bad habit and do so before she got sick of it.  
  
There had been many times he felt that she had turned to him because he was the only one there during that awful time. Her friends were in evidence, of course but they had had their own lives. Apart from Hogwarts and spying on the Death Eaters, Snape had had no life before Hermione. He could be available to her. Maybe when she had fully recovered from her parent's death, she would prefer the company of a much younger man - a contemporary. His insides felt cold as he made himself face that possibility.  
  
The fire had burnt low as he sat brooding, trying to ignore the painfully hollow feeling his line of thought had produced. He heard footsteps and looked up to see Hermione shuffling towards him, yawning heartily and looking sleepy. "Come to bed, for goodness sake! It's past midnight," she said grouchily and went and sat on his lap, winding her arms around him.  
  
"I thought you weren't talking to me," he said, his dark eyebrows raised but relief flooding over him.  
  
"I thought about not talking to you but I got over it," Hermione said frankly, opening his robes at the neck. "I hate all these bloody buttons!" she added irritably. "What's with the buttons?"  
  
"Typical Gryffindor," he said with one of his milder sneers. "You couldn't hold a grudge for a respectable length of time if you tried."  
  
"True," she replied unperturbed. She sat up a bit so she could reach his mouth and kiss him. Snape felt heat immediately flood his veins and his heartbeat quickened.  
  
"I notice you were brooding nicely," she teased, nibbling at his lean mouth.  
  
"I was wondering," he said in his deep voice, lifting his mouth from her for a second, "whether or not it would work what with you being a former pupil of mine."  
  
Hermione finally managed to slip a hand inside his robes. He hissed softly as her hand wandered caressingly over his thin torso. She leaned back slightly and looked into his face. "Oh? Why?" she asked with a frown.  
  
"I didn't know whether during that time, you were really looking for an authority figure rather than a lover. Maybe someone to lean on rather than to.. er.. seduce," he said, catching his breath as Hermione opened his robe further and slipped both hands inside.  
  
Hermione grinned. "Does that feel like I'm looking for an authority figure?" she asked limpidly, then leaned forward and kissed him again. He made a faint noise as his body shifted restlessly under her hands.  
  
"I thought that once the crisis was over, you might end up having regrets," he said, lifting his mouth from hers once more and looking down at her seriously.  
  
She looked at him gravely for a long moment, then put one hand on either side of his face and stared into his deep-set eyes. "What I wanted was you," she said with a straightforwardness that took Snape's breath away and was incomprehensible to a Slytherin like himself. "And that won't change."  
  
The stared at each other in silence, Hermione's sharp grey eyes softening as she looked into his. He leaned forward and captured her mouth once more, his long arms wrapping around her tightly as he kissed her deeply. 


	26. Addendum Four, Make My Core Tremble

A/N - I am having so much fun with these PWP? chapters. It is a totally different experience to the intensity of writing to a plot and a tight plan. It's far lazier for one thing! I hope they're not too frivolous for you all but I wanted to share them in the hope you guys enjoy them half as much as I enjoy writing them.  
  
Addendum Four  
  
"shall be devoured by the fire of his jealousy" Zaphaniah 1:18  
  
(About three weeks after Snape moving into Hermione's parent's house and just before the fateful book throwing incident.)  
  
Snape had wondered into the upstairs kitchen to make some coffee. It still felt odd to have to make his own coffee with that weird kettle contraption. If he were at Hogwarts or at his own home, the House Elves would have brought him the best coffee available in the world in a silver service. The coffee Hermione bought at that thing called a grocery store was very good by Muggle standards but not comparable to the blends usually available to him.  
  
It was actually his nose that had led him upstairs. Hermione was baking biscuits and she was a good cook. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, she was good at potions and potions were far harder than baking biscuits and cakes seemed to be. The whole concept of cooking was foreign to him. He had never cooked in his life. He had always had House Elves at his constant disposal.  
  
The kitchen smelled of rich chocolate and spices. It was heavenly. She smiled cheerfully at him and said, "help yourself to some biscuits, they're still warm". She was happily bustling around mixing and chopping, and a thick strand of her hair kept falling out of its band.  
  
She watched him surreptitiously as he sat down wordlessly at the table and helped himself to a warm biscuit off the tray. He ate it in about 3 bites. It was a large biscuit; thick and the size of a man's palm. Hermione smiled to herself as she prepared another tray to go into the oven. His appetite was difficult to really tempt. He would eat anything put in front of him as long as it wasn't Muggle 'junk' food. He refused point blank to eat that. However, if she didn't make a point of cooking 3 proper meals a day and making treats like these biscuits, she knew that he would probably skip more meals than he ate. Without someone reminding him to eat, he could get lost in thought or some book and go an entire day without eating or drinking. He refused to eat prepared or frozen food either. She bought fresh food of the best quality and cooked it carefully. Fortunately she found cooking easy and quite enjoyed doing it anyway. She could have said, 'tough luck' and let him starve for being so picky and he would have deserved it but for some reason she just couldn't.  
  
She knew perfectly well that Snape would like those biscuits. They were made with 70% cocoa chocolate and crammed with good quality dried fruit. The first time Snape had picked up a store bought biscuit in her kitchen he had taken one bite, wrinkled his large hawkish nose slightly and put the rest in the bin. "Harry and Ron love those biscuits," she had said to him at the time with amusement.  
  
"They would," he had replied sardonically with a look of utter contempt on his harsh features. That had made her even more amused.  
  
Hermione sat down at the table while she waited for the latest batch to come out of the oven. She began eating a fresh biscuit herself. By the time she had nibbled her way through one biscuit, Snape had eaten six - all in the same three-large-bite pattern. She would have questioned whether he was actually tasting them at all but she knew if they were the packaged chocolate chip biscuits that Harry and Ron loved, he would not have touched them at all even if he were starving.  
  
Hermione felt quite pleased. It was one of her missions to feed him up a bit. He always looked so pale and hungry and whip-thin. If he kept eating those rich biscuits at that rate, she would achieve her aim faster than she hoped. She knew he could eat them until the cows came home and he'd never get fat but perhaps he wouldn't look quite so skinny and starved either. She made a mental note to keep a big biscuit jar full of these cookies permanently near the kettle where he could find them and help himself. She often wondered if other hungry looking people would have this effect on her and she doubted it. If it had been Harry or Ron who were so picky about their food, she would have let them waste away. Then again, neither Harry nor Ron would ever be that picky about food. If it was edible, they'd eat it. They were terribly easy to please. She loved them for it. If she had put the Frankfurt and Baked Bean rugby dinner they both loved in front of Snape, he would have turned up his large nose at it. Hermione almost giggled at the thought of the expression on his face if she had tried it.  
  
Snape suddenly frowned mid-chew. "Are Harry and Ron coming here today?" he asked suspiciously, after swallowing. He immediately took another bite of his seventh biscuit.  
  
"Yes, later this afternoon. Ron wants to see some more of my DVDs. I got some new ones the other day. Harry is coming over too," Hermione said cheerfully, knowing he'd be displeased at the news.  
  
Snape scowled and even stopped chewing for a moment. He glanced at the kitchen clock. "When exactly?" he demanded.  
  
"In about an hour," she replied, checking the time herself. "Harry finishes training then and Ron will be finished at the Auror Academy."  
  
Snape's scowl grew deeper and he slouched his thin frame over the table. "I should have known when you were baking that those two were coming here," he muttered resentfully.  
  
"If you keep eating all those biscuits, they won't get any of them anyway," she pointed out without any real rancor as he helped himself to another. She wondered that he didn't already feel violently ill. The biscuits were very rich.  
  
"These biscuits would be wasted on those two anyway," he said disdainfully. "Give them those dreadful dry, hard, tasteless Muggle things you buy," he added unapologetically before taking another bite.  
  
"I'm making myself some tea. Do you want some coffee?" she offered, getting up hurriedly to hide her amusement at his sulks.  
  
He nodded and dusted the biscuit crumbs from his slender hands. "Are they going to be here half the night?" he asked sullenly.  
  
"Nah, I doubt it. Harry has training and Ron has Auror Academy tomorrow again," she said, putting a cup of strong plunger coffee in front of him. He drank it black and without sugar. "That's going to taste foul after all those sweet biscuits," she observed.  
  
Snape took a sip. He hated that she was right but wasn't going to admit it. He drank it before it got cold. He examined the mug with approval. It was good china, not as fine as the Snape family china or that used for the staff at Hogwarts but still good quality. At least it wasn't that dreadful, thick pottery. He refused to drink out of thick mugs or cups.  
  
Having eaten everything worth eating in sight, Snape retired back to his rooms downstairs. He had no intention of coming back up later when Harry and Ron were there. Besides, they usually had pizza or something equally dreadful for dinner when they got together so he was glad he'd eaten as many biscuits as he'd wanted.  
  
He heard Harry's deep tones and Ron's slightly lighter ones less than half an hour later. They were all talking nineteen to the dozen. With a grimace, he went and lay down on his bed with a book.  
  
Hermione was glad as always to see her friends. They camped out in front of the flat screen TV with a good supply of junk food and 3 huge pizzas (of which the boys ate all but the 2 pieces Hermione had). Hermione had the new Charles Angels II movie on DVD which Hermione thought was hilarious. The boys just wanted to see Cameron Diaz, Lucy Liu and Drew Barrymore in sexy outfits.  
  
The movie was funny and the 3 friends had a great time, cheering the unrealistic fight scenes and envying the dirt bikes. "I want a dirt bike," Harry muttered.  
  
"Me too," Hermione agreed, her eyes glued to the screen during the stunts.  
  
"I want Cameron Diaz," Ron said frankly.  
  
Hermione elbowed him. "You wouldn't say that if Padma were here!" she objected sternly.  
  
Ron's eyes grew wide. "Of course not! You won't tell her I said that, will you?" he asked anxiously.  
  
"No," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.  
  
Snape heard the laughter from upstairs and glowered at the ceiling. It seemed his resentment of the bold, bad trio had only grown in the past month rather than receding as it should when he was no longer their teacher. He still bitterly hated Harry's father James and that hatred had spilled onto his son because the boy reminded him so strongly of James. Harry had gotten away with too much at Hogwarts just like his damn father. Snape's hooded eyes burned with anger as he pushed away the memories that he did not want to relive yet again. Ron he simply felt contempt for. The Weasleys were pure bloods and an old wizarding family but had fallen onto hard times. He did not hold that against them but Ron had gone on to become friends with Harry and his family consequently became a second family for the son of his oldest and most bitter enemy. He could not forgive them for that.  
  
However, he did not understand why his antipathy had grown rather than lessened now that neither Harry nor Ron were his students anymore. Once he was no longer Hermione's guardian, he need never have anything to do with any of them again.  
  
A burst of laughter over his head pulled him out of his reverie. It was Gryffindor laugher - loud and carefree. It was an alien sound to him. He had not heard it in either his own home nor in the Slytherin House growing up. He certainly did not hear it amongst the Death Eaters. It grated on his nerves. It seemed excessive to him, he did not understand it.  
  
He got up from his bed and paced beside his bed. What was bothering him? Why was he so edgy? It couldn't just be because Harry and Ron were here. Why was their presence bothering him so much?  
  
"What's Snape doing?" Ron asked upstairs at around that point.  
  
"Either prowling, pacing or scowling," Hermione predicted, quite accurately.  
  
"Or all three," Harry grinned.  
  
"Most likely," Hermione agreed with a laugh.  
  
"I can't get my head around the idea of having to live in the same house as Snape," Ron said, shaking his fiery head.  
  
"It's an experience," Hermione agreed with a nod.  
  
"Does he ever talk to you?" Ron asked curiously.  
  
"Rarely," she replied honestly.  
  
"Remember how much trouble he was always trying to get us in?" Ron said with a glare in the general direction of the floor.  
  
"I think we did just fine on our own!" Hermione said with a laugh.  
  
"He hated me. He still does," Harry said matter-of-factly.  
  
"He hated your father," Hermione corrected him.  
  
"In effect, it was the same thing," Harry argued. Hermione sighed at the truth of that.  
  
Snape finally decided he couldn't stay downstairs anymore. He kicked off his boots and prowled quietly up the stairs on the pretext of getting a late night snack. From the top of the stairs he could see the backs of their heads on the couch as they watched something puzzling on that Muggle TV-thing that seemed to involve some pretty, scantily clad girls being very violent. Hermione's head was resting against Harry's messy black mop and Ron's bright head was on her other side, leaning against her shoulder. His mouth tightened. If they were just friends, why did they need so much physical contact? It wasn't natural. Slytherin friends (if they could be called 'friends' rather than alliances) did not involve any form of touching. Slytherins kept their distance and their dignity. The only time Slytherins touched each other were those in sexual relationships. The trio's affection made every muscle in Snape's body tense. It made him feel light-headed and nauseous.  
  
Abruptly he turned and went back downstairs before they realized he was there. With a sudden shock he realized what his problem was. It was sexual jealousy, pure and simple. Ever since that night at Hogwarts where he had ended up with a painful and prolonged hard on after their confrontation in her room, he had been unable to view Hermione the same way - as just another student or ex-student. Snape had been around long enough to understand that sexual chemistry had no rhyme or reason. He didn't choose to be so strongly sexually attracted to Hermione. In fact, he wished it would just go away. However, wishing would not make it happen.  
  
He paced in the sitting room area of his suite; tension making his slim, tall frame taunt. His dark eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal looking for an escape. He was worried. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to continue to hide his feelings from her living in such close proximity. He heard another burst of laughter from above. His lips thinned. He wanted to go upstairs and make a scene so that Ron and Harry had to leave. His lean face twisted into a scornful sneer as he contemplated how the two boys played up to her, both competing for her attention. What Snape could not recognize in his jealous state was that the bond the trio shared had more to do with the sort of deep friendship between people who have risked their lives for each other than with anything sexual at all.  
  
Finally Harry and Ron left at around 10pm and Snape could relax. He went and lay on his bed but he did not go to sleep for long, long time. 


	27. Addendum Five, Never Let Go

Addendum Five - Hermatica & Severus I's Story  
  
"Wisdom is better than weapons of war: but one sinner destroyeth much good." Ecclesiastes 9:18  
  
(One day during the short Christmas visit to Snape Manor, the Christmas after Hermione's 18th Birthday.)  
  
(For those history buffs out there, I apologise for any liberty I've taken with ancient Arab history. There is not a great deal of information out there about the very early Arab and Berber tribes so I've had a lovely time making up whatever I wanted. Please forgive my 'poetic license'.)  
  
Hermione was sitting in the library regarding Hermatica and Severus-the- first as they sat hand in hand with their heads almost touching talking about something in soft voices. Hermione's Snape was planning lessons for the next semester at a nearby table and Hermione had been doing some forward reading for her second semester studies at Hogsbridge. Snow was falling gently outside the long, lead-paned windows and casting a melancholy grey light over the room relieved only by the golden light from the large fireplaces crackling with burning oak.  
  
The heavy text on Arithmancy failed to hold Hermione's attention for once. There were so many formulas and she was not in the mood to analyse them on this cosy, sleepy day. She figured she should have stuck to her advanced herbology texts where she only needed to read and retain.  
  
She glanced over at her Snape to see him frowning darkly over the basic Hogwarts Potion texts. She knew he found it frustrating to be constantly dealing with such basic Potions. He should have been teaching at Hogsbridge or Hogford University, she mused but she knew he taught at Hogwarts out of obligation to Dumbledore. Oddly enough, there was also more prestige in being Hogwarts' Potion Master anyway.  
  
She glanced back at the couple in the painting, so like herself and Severus that it still shocked her to see them together. The only real difference was the ancient style of clothing. Hermatica glanced up from her quiet conversation with Severus-the-first to see Hermione contemplating them. She smiled at her. She genuinely liked Hermione. Hermione regarded them steadily. "You never did tell me your story," she said questioningly, glad for the distraction from her dull text.  
  
Severus looked up sharply from the lesson plans he was preparing at the sound of her soft voice. It had been quiet for so long that it startled him. He followed her gaze to the couple in the painting. He didn't know their story either, he realized.  
  
Hermatica and Severus-the-first glanced at each other. Hermatica gave him a small nod and he turned to face Hermione, drawing himself up in the process. Hermione knew through her Muggle Studies that the ancient Arab and Berber tribes had been great story tellers and she could see Severus- the-first preparing himself to tell his story in the ancient North African style.  
  
*"My name," said Severus-the-first immediately, looking down his hawkish nose at her with a typical arrogant expression, "is Sultan Severus Kidrash Tisroc Calavar Rishti Snape." Hermione didn't even attempt to try to remember such a ridiculous name but nor did she betray her amusement with even the flicker of an eyelash. To do so during the recital of a story by a great, ancient North African Sultan would have been rude beyond telling. "I am the first son of Sultan Khalid Ahoshta Calorman Severus Snape who is descended in a right line from the demon-god Kalash and the first of his wives, Queen Ardeeb Ilsombreh Tarkaan Azaroth Zardeenah who was a Princess from the lands of the Berbers. Thus I was the heir to the great Snape dynasty and one of the few who could stand with my feet within my shoes before the shrine of the demon-god Kalash."  
  
"Impressive", Hermione thought to herself with a hint of amusement.  
  
"My father had conquered many lands during his reign and greatly increased the wealth of our tribe but it was not until I held the throne after his death in battle (and may the peace of the gods rest upon his soul) that my tribe became the most powerful and the wealthiest in North Africa," he continued, his dark eyes shining at the memory in the muted light of the library. "We conquered tribe after tribe in those days," he continued suddenly fierce, clenching his fist and getting up to pace as the memories fired his blood. "Their people became our slaves and once they were set free after serving their time in our land, they became allied to our tribe and fought by our side to increase our wealth."  
  
They must have been well-treated as slaves, Hermione reflected with interest, to want to stay and serve their old masters once they had their freedom.  
  
"By the time I was 25 years old, I had held power for seven years. In that time our tribal lands had doubled and our wealth increased ten fold. It came to pass around that time that a small tribe with a good tract of land on one of our boundaries had not yet fallen to our armies. The sun appeared dark in my eyes because we could not conquer this proud race and add their lands to our kingdom," Severus-the-first continued, his dark gaze turned inward as he remembered.  
  
Hermione noticed that a strange look flickered across Hermatica's face at mention of this small enemy tribe. What was that expression, she wondered? It had come and gone so fast that Hermione could not name it.  
  
"My brother and second in command to the throne had been given these lands to conquer and thus far he had failed," Severus-the-first said with a sneer that Hermione knew all too well. "After several failed attempts, I myself decided to take the matter into my own hands. I knew from traveling merchants that the lands were ruled by a great Queen who was seldom seen. She had many times gained the respect of her enemies by protecting her small tribal lands from invaders. She was said to be clever and quite ruthless. Legends surrounded her including that she was a powerful witch born of two Muggle parents. No-one had seen her palace nor could describe her to me.  
  
"I sent scouts into the tent cities of my enemy to spy and find out their battle plans. My best scouts failed to discover anything for they could find no city that would show where their army was camped. Finally, I took my own horse and disguised as a merchant I penetrated the lands of this mysterious people.  
  
"The lands were desert but for all their desolation I knew they were wealthy from their production of rare spices and fragrances that grew no- where else in the region. Unlike other cities we had conquered, there was no large tent city for traders and no wealthy ruling family living by the tribe's major wells.  
  
"The only person I saw during my time there was a young woman. The desert lands were dotted with hills and gorges. One day as I passed through one of the main thoroughfares in a gorge of sand and stone, I saw a lone figure staring down at me from the highest place in the gorge."  
  
Hermione's eyes darted to Hermatica's face again. Once more, it held that strange expression and Hermione realized with a jolt that Hermatica was looking inward remembering what Severus-the-first spoke of. Hermione suddenly knew the woman on the hill had been Hermatica.  
  
"I knew it was a young girl. Although she was wearing layers of clothing to protect her from desert heat and sand and all I could see was her face, she was still so slender that it could not have been anything else," he continued in his formal style. "I also knew when I saw her face that one day she would be my wife," he said with an arrogance that left Hermione breathless. A small, humorless smile flickered across Hermatica's face as though his words amused her but sorrow out-weighed the amusement.  
  
"I was about to call out to her to ask the way to their city when she disappeared. Although I was on top of that hill less than two minutes later, she had gone and it was a mystery to me where she could be hiding. All around me was sand and rock and nothing else. I waited for a long time, all the rest of that day and all that night but she did not come back. Eventually, I had to leave the land as ignorant as my scouts had been.  
  
"After arriving back in my own tribe, I raised an army and set off once more for those lands. As we had seen no-one, I did not know how an army could fail to capture it. I soon found out for as soon as my army rode into the area on my tribes best war-horses, we were set upon by invisible opponents. From every hill came showers of arrows and rocks. Roads were blocked and we wasted days clearing them meanwhile we were set upon from above. Finally, we withdrew with less than one in ten of my men still alive.  
  
"The sun appeared dark in my eyes not only to suffer my first defeat as a General but also because of the horrific loss of life among my ranks. We had lost most of the tribe's best young men and I could not forgive this race for being so ruthless to my own and I swore revenge." Hermione shivered when she saw Severus-the-first's face as he said this and had no doubt he had made good his threat.  
  
Hermatica looked grim but her posture was relaxed even as her lips thinned and the dark grey eyes burned with some repressed emotion.  
  
"In the end, before I could raise another army to try again a terrible sickness spread through their tribe and nearly all suffered death. The few traders that gained entry to their land and people told us the story of how swiftly the disease had killed them all. My own army were afraid to go back there in case they too were infected. In the end, only a small force went back to claim the lands that were now deserted not just in appearance but in fact. This time, no poisonous darts rained down on us and no shower of rocks split open our skulls. We were able to claim the land and put an army on the borders to protect it.  
  
"For many moons there was peace in this empty land and no reports were heard of rebel groups. It did seem that all the original inhabitants had died or left until one day when one of my soldiers reported that the Queen of this land had been captured near the border. For many days I debated what to do with this prisoner. I was tempted to stake her body in the wilderness and let the vultures eat her alive," he hissed, his deep set eyes glittering with remembered hatred. "But I thought being put in my harem would be more humiliating," he added spitefully. "The humiliation would last longer and all my enemies would hear of this great Queen's downfall."  
  
He had a harem, Hermione thought bemusedly?  
  
"One day soon after, I was strolling through my harem one afternoon and I saw the young girl I had seen in those lands so many months before. I was confused because as far as I knew, none of the people of that land had been captured apart from their Queen and this girl was so young that I knew she could not be that Queen of legend. The thought didn't even enter my head. I remember she glanced up at me to where I was standing on the harem's balcony but her gaze held no curiousity. She turned away again and continued splashing in the courtyard's fountain. It angered me that this beautiful young woman had no regard for her new Master," Severus-the-first said imperiously. Hermione sighed and tried not to roll her eyes. Hermatica shot her a small glance and Hermione wasn't at all sure that she didn't wink. "I held her life in my hands and she turned her back on me!"  
  
"I had my Eunuchs bring her to me in my throne room where my court of advisors was gathered. When she would not kneel she was pushed to the floor. Even then, she merely sat cross legged and regarded me under her eyelashes. The Eunuchs would have struck her but I stopped them. I didn't want her skin marked," he explained haughtily.  
  
Hermione's eyes slid to those of her Snape to see his reaction to this narrative. He was staring disbelievingly at his own ancestor and Hermione nearly smiled. She was sure her Snape would deny having any personality characteristics in common with Severus-the-first after hearing this story but he'd be wrong, she thought.  
  
" "Who are you?" I demanded of her," Severus-the-first hissed. " "Queen Hermatica Avaris Shasta Tashbaana," this young girl replied arrogantly."  
  
Hermione thought he had rather a cheek calling anyone else arrogant.  
  
" "You are not a Queen!" I replied. "You are too young!" This young slip of a girl didn't deign to reply! I said, "you dare not to answer me when I am speaking to you? I could have you killed this very afternoon!" I told her.  
  
" "Why don't you?" she asked, almost curiously. I did not condescend to reply to her question. As King of the most powerful tribe in North Africa, I did not have to answer slaves' questions," Severus-the-first related, drawing himself up to his full height at the memory of this insulting behaviour.  
  
A ghost of a smile passed over Hermatica's lips. Once more, her eyes met Hermione's and a secret knowledge flashed between them. Severus-the-first had not answered the question because he was not ready to face his already strong feelings for the young Queen.  
  
"At that point in time, a messenger arrived for me. All the soldiers I had left in this Queen's lands had died. The wells had been poisoned at the time she had been captured only days before. I was furious! Even within my own walls, she was still killing my tribe! She was a menace and deeply dangerous. I knew that my best course was to kill her that very day. Goodness only knew what damage she would wreck within the very walls of my palace! My advisors felt the same way and I could hear them murmuring as I hesitated. For some reason, I couldn't do it. Perhaps it was because she was so young and so beautiful or perhaps I felt I had finally met an equal, I don't know. In the end, I sent her back to the harem.  
  
"Much later, my court whispered that she had cast a spell on me that had saved her life," Severus-the-first said, "perhaps they were right," he mused. "Although my own magical bloodline was far purer than her own, it turned out that her magic was just as strong as mine.  
  
"I did not approach her for a long time - many moons but I had her watched constantly. She did nothing suspicious. Finally I began sending for her. I wanted to find out how she and her people had evaded my armies for so long. It infuriated me when she refused to answer. She would not tell me the secrets of her warfare nor how to cultivate the rich spices and perfumes that had grown in her land. Any mention of her old kingdom and she would withdraw into herself. I knew it made her sad to think of her lost kingdom and eventually, I could not bear to sadden her by pressing her for information. I should have tortured it out of her!" he added proudly but by that time, Hermione knew it was only bluster.  
  
Suddenly Severus-the-first stopped talking and flung himself moodily back in his chair, his long legs covered in richly embroidered fabrics stretched out before him.  
  
"What happened then?" Hermione asked curiously.  
  
"Oh, I seduced him," Hermatica said frankly and laughed heartily, putting out one hand to caress Severus-the-first's hair.  
  
"Why?" Hermione said, not understanding why she would want to seduce an enemy.  
  
"I wanted to," Hermatica said pleasantly with a shrug. "I had never let anything stand in the way of what I wanted. I wanted Severus," she said, her eyes caressing his profile as he sat slumped sullenly in his chair.  
  
"Wasn't that rather dangerous?" Hermione asked cautiously.  
  
"Probably. I never thought about things like danger," she said carelessly.  
  
"I wanted to marry her. I had never forgotten my premonition the first time I saw her face," Severus-the-first muttered. "They all knew I was planning to regardless of their disapproval of her Muggle blood. Before I could, my treacherous younger brother murdered her. He could not forgive her for having defeated him time and time again. He would not bow to her as Queen nor accept that her children would one day sit on the throne that he wanted. He said it was because she was Muggle-born but that was only part of the reason. My treasonous court co-operated. They were all fed to the vultures and my brother was banished. I found out later that Hermatica had been pregnant with our first son when she died."  
  
Hermione gasped in horror. She glanced at her Snape with wide eyes. His face was pale. It was obviously news to him too. "It's a very tragic history," Hermione murmured.  
  
"Yes but that's exactly what it is - history," Hermatica stressed.  
  
Hermione knew that Sultans had often married a foreign woman in their harem much later in history so it did not surprise her that it had happened in ancient Arab history as well. She also knew that woman could be quite powerful in their tribe and there had been powerful Queens during the same period. For example, the prophet Mohammed had been the much younger husband of just such a powerful and wealthy tribal leader. The tribes had been fighting amongst themselves in that part of the world for centuries before Mohammed had brought them together as a nation under the banner of Islam.  
  
Soon after telling their story, Hermatica and Severus-the-first wandered off hand in hand looking subdued to share their private grief alone.  
  
Hermione was lost in thought when Snape stalked over to her chair. He took her hand and pulled her into his arms and held her hard. "History won't repeat itself," she said reassuringly, sensing his mood immediately and caressing the hair at his nape.  
  
"At least my treacherous family are all dead," he said harshly.  
  
Hermione buried her face against his chest and breathed in his scent. "Nothing is going to part us," she said.  
  
"No, nothing!" he said and suddenly the tone in his voice was so much like that of his violent, autocratic ancestor that Hermione shivered.  
  
* Told in the style adopted from 'The Horse and His Boy" by C. S. Lewis. Several names have been borrowed as well. 


End file.
